•UBRAHY^ 

UffS 


THREE  PER  CENT.  A  MONTH, 


OR  THE 


PERILS  OF  FAST  LIVING: 


A  WARNING  TO  YOUNG  MEN. 


CHARLES   BURDETT, 

AUTHOR  OF  "  SECOND  MARRIAGE,"  "  MARY  GROTER,"  "  ELLIOTT  FAMILY," 
"  MARION  DESMOND,"  "  NEVER  TOO  LATE,"  ETC.,  ETC. 


PHILADELPHIA  : 
PUBLISHED    BY    G.    G.    EVANS, 

NO. 439    CHESTNUT    STREET. 
1859. 


Entered  according  to  the  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1859,  by 
G.    G.    EVANS, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Eastern  District  of 
Pennsylvania. 


/  w 
/  *t 


TO  THE 

HOK  AMBROSE   C.   EINGSLAND, 

EX-MAYOR  OF  THE  CITY  OF  NEW  YORK, 


IS   RESPECTFULLY  INSCRIBED, 

BY   HIS  SINCERE  FRIEND, 

THE  AUTHOR. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

P*ni 
LOOKING    FOB   A   HOME          .  .  .  .  .  .  .  14 

CHAPTER  II. 

THE    HOUSE   BOUGHT  .......  .24 

CHAPTER  III. 

THE    FIRST    SUMMER    IN    THE    COUNTRY  .....  84 

CHAPTER  IT. 
THE  CARPENTER'S  WIFE     ........        44 

CHAPTER  V. 

THE    REFORMED    HUSBAND  ........  55 

CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    FAST    MAN'S    HOLIDAYS  .......  64 

CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    FAST    MAN    AT    SARATOGA      .......  7-1 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THK  CARPENTER'S  WEDDING  DAY       .  .        .        .        .        81 

ix 


X  CONTENTS. 

PiO« 

CHAPTER  IX. 

A    FASHIONABLE    WIFE'S    ADVICE  ......  91 

CHAPTER  X. 

A    CHARACTER   APPEARS       ........          104 

CHAPTER  XL 

SYMPTOMS  OF  A  FAMILY  QUARREL 115 

CHAPTER  XII. 

"  UNCLE    GEORGE,"    AND   WHAT    HE    DID         .....          126 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
THE  CARPENTER'S  WIFE  AGAIN 139 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

3NCLE    GEORGE    FINDS    A    HOME 149 

CHAPTER  XV. 

VURNLNG   OVER   A    NEW    LEAF        .......          157 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

001XG   BACKWARDS   AGAIN 164 

CHAPTER    XVU. 

TUB    FAST    MAN    AT    NEWPORT        ...  ...          172 

CHAPTER  XVIIL 

SOME    OF  THE    CONSEQUENCES 182 

CHAPTER   XIX. 

ALMOST    A   DISCOVERY          '.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .196 


CONTENTS.  XI 

PAG  I 

CHAPTER   XX. 

APPROACHING   A   CRISIS       ........          204 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

A    DISCOVERT   AT    HAND        ........         220 

CHAPTER    XXII. 

MEETING    OLD   ACQUAINTANCES    .......         228 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A    DISCOVERY    MADE    .........  £    239 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE    STEP-SISTER          .........         255 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

A    RECONCILIATION      .........         266 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE    FAST    MAN    GOING    DOWK    HILL       .  .  .   '        .  .  .         272 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 
THE  WIFE'S  DEVOTION      ......        .        ,       283 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
THE  FORGER'S  WIFE         ...  ....      290 

CHAPTER   XXIX. 

THE  BOTTOM  OF  THE  HILL     .......    297 


CHAPTER 

FLANNING  OF  THE  FUTURE     ....          .         806 


Xl'i  CONTENTS. 

PAOB 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

A   NEW   HOME 816 

CHAPTER  XXXIL 

A   GLIMPSE   OF   SUNSHINE 327 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

UNCLE  GEORGE  AND  HIS  PROTEGEE 337 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

BRIGHTER   PROSPECTS '.  .         843 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

CHRISTMAS   AND    A  SURPRISE .  .         853 

CHAPTER   XXXVL 

A  MERRY  CHRISTMAS  FOR  EVERT  BODY 362 

CHAPTER  XXXVIL 

THE    FAST   MAN'S    CHRISTMAS 870 

.  CHAPTER   XXXVIII. 

A   FAMILY   MEETING  .  . 877 

CHAPTER    XXXIX. 

DRAWING  TO    A    CLOSK        .  ......         885 

CONCLUSION       ........  390 


CHAPTER  I. 

LOOKING   FOE  A  HOUSE. 

Two  gentlemen  are  seated  in  the  elegant  library  of  the 
fine  mansion  owned  and  occupied  by  Mr.  Hardman,  in  one 
of  the  great  thoroughfares  which  cross  the  city  from  river 
to  riTer. 

The  room  is  handsomely  and  appropriately  furnished. 
Oak  panelled  paper,  frescoed  ceilings,  oaken  book  cases  filled 
with  standard  works,  oaken  arm-chairs  of  the  most  luxuri 
ous  shape  and  pattern,  and  even  the  carpet  was  of  a  color 
to  match  the  rest  of  the  apartment. 

The  month  was  April  185 —  ;  the  weather  so  pleasant  and 
mild,  fires  were  unnecessary,  and  the  occupants  of  the  room 
were  seated  each  hi  his  ami-chair,  enjoying  a  fine  Havanna, 
and  engaged  in  intimate  and  friendly  conversation. 

Mr.  Hardman,  the  elder  of  tho  two,  was  one  of  the  mer 
chant  princes  of  New  York — one  who  had  amassed  a  very 
large  fortune  by  frugality,  industry,  strict  integrity,  and  a 


14:      THBEE  PEE  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

rigid  adherence  to  rules  and  principles,  which,  having  laid 
down  at  the  commencement  of  his  career,  were  never 
swerved  from  in  his  after  years. 

Having  lived  thus  himself,  he  felt  that  any  one  possessing 
common  sense  enough  to  know  right  from  wrong,  could 
accomplish  as  much  as  he  had  done  ;  and  he  was  rather 
inapt  to  overlook  any  deviation  from  the  rules  upon  which 
he  had  so  successfully  practised,  and  which  had  brought  to 
him  honor  and  esteem  from  all  classes,  and  a  fortune,  which, 
being  invested  with  great  sagacity,  yielded  an  income  suffi 
cient  for  more  than  his  wants,  and  ample  enough  to  justify 
any  luxury  in  which  he  might  choose  to  indulge. 

His  companion,  Robert  Arnold,  was  some  twelve  or  four 
teen  years  the  junior  of  the  two.  A  pleasant,  lively,  active, 
bustling  man — well  meaning  in  all  things — credulous  to  a 
fault,  and  hopeful  even  to  folly  ;  for  a  single  ray  of  sunshine 
in  his  path,  was  to  him  the  dawning  of  an  era  of  prosperity. 

He  was  recently  established  in  business  in  one  of  the 
down-town  streets,  having  formed  a  good  connection  with  a 
couple  of  salesmen  from  establishments  similar  to  that  in 
which  he  had  been  engaged  for  many  years  ;  and  having  a 
special  partner  who  had  invested  twenty-five  thousand 
dollars,  his  prospects  were  certainly  very  flattering  ;  indeed, 
the  business  of  the  first  year  had  prospered  so  far  beyontf 
his  expectations,  he  was  in  the  highest  spirits. 

"  And  so  you  have  really  bought  the  house  ?" 

"  Why,  not  exactly  bought  it,  but  I  am  to  give  a  positive 
answer  to-morrow.  I  wouldn't  conclude  the  bargain  with 
out  consulting  with  you.  Now,  what  do  you  say  ?" 


LOOKING     FOE     A     HOUSE.  15 

*'  How  much  are  you  to  give  for  it  ?" 

"  Eleven  five — " 

"  And  how  much  down  ?" 

"  Only  three  thousand — the  other  eighty-five  hundred  are 
to  stand — three  thousand  for  three  years,  and  the  balance 
for  an  unlimited  tune." 

"  Don't  you  think  it  would  be  as  well  to  hire  ?  You 
could  get  a  house  large  enough  for  your  family  for  less  than 
the  interest  of  this  one  you  talk  of  purchasing." 

"  Oh,  no,  how  wildly  you  talk  I" 

"  Come,  let  us  see.  Seven  per  cent,  on  eleven  thousand 
five  hundred,  is  " 

"Ah,  but  you  must  not  count  that  way  for  rent.  Of 
course,  I  don't  count  interest  on  what  I  pay  down." 

"You  don't — very  well — you  may  have  to  yet,  so  yon 
may  as  well  begin  now.  But  come,  leave  that  out  of  the 
question.  The  interest  on  the  balance  would  be  five  hun 
dred  and  eighty-five  dollars.  Taxes  and  water  rent  make 
another  hundred — say  seven  hundred  dollars." 

"  Well,  and  you  don't  suppose  I  could  hire  such  a  house 
for  seven  hundred  dollars  ?" 

"  Perhaps  not  such  an  one,  but  surely  one  large  enough 
and  good  enough  for  your  family  now." 

"  Oh,  no  ;  this  is  a  fine  brown  stone  front,  in  a  first-class 
neighborhood,  and  I  am  sure  it  will  increase  in  value  for 
some  time  to  come.  I  am  told  by  those  who  know,  that  it 
is  a  real  bargain." 

"  I  see  there  is  no  use  in  my  talking  ;  but  if  you  will  buy, 


16     THREE  PEK  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

why  don't  you  pay  down  more  money  now,  and  leave  a 
smaller  mortgage  ?" 

"  Oh,  the  seller  don't  care  for  any  more  at  present,  and  I 
Bhall  want  the  balance  for  my  furniture  and  fixings." 

"  That  is  just  what  I  am  afraid  of.  The  furniture  and 
fixings  in  a  first-class  house,  in  a  first-class  neighborhood, 
cost  something,  and  you  will  find  it  out,  if  I  am  not  much 
mistaken." 

"  I  know  that,  Mr.  Hardman,  but  a  man  ought  to  have  a 
home,  you  know,  some  tune  or  other  in  his  life." 

"  A  man  ought  to  be  able  to  pay  for  it  before  he  has  it ; 
that's  my  doctrine,  you  know — pay  as  you  go." 

"  Of  course,  that's  the  true  rule  ;  but  then,  you  know,  I 
can  always  sell  this  for  more  than  as  much  as  I  give  for  it. 
But,  tell  me  truly,  what  do  you  think  of  it  ?" 

"  Why,  if  you  have  any  money  you  can  spare  from  youi 
business,  it  is,  perhaps,  well  enough  to  secure  a  home." 

"  I  wouldn't  purchase  if  I  had  not  the  means.  My  share 
of  the  profits  last  year  was  nearly  seven  thousand  dol 
lars." 

"  Well,  that's  encouraging,  I  must  say.  But  don't  you 
think  it  would  be  much  better  to  allow  that  seven  thousand 
dollars  to  remain  in  your  concern  and  increase  its  capital, 
than  to  take  it,  or  any  portion  of  it,  to  purchase  a  house  ? 
You  had  better  hire  for  a  year  or  two." 

"  Upon  my  word,  Mr.  Hardman,"  said  Arnold,  half  smil 
ing,  and  half  vexed,  to  encounter  so  many  objections  to  a 
scheme  upon  which  he  had  set  his  heart,  "  I  can't  agree  with 


LOOKING     FOR     A     HOUSE.  17 

you.  I  think  a  man  is  justified  in  enjoying  all  the  comforts 
lie  can  procure  with  the  money  he  earns." 

"  Ah  well  I  I  see,"  said  his  friend,  noticing  the  slight  cloud 
on  his  companion's  face — "  you  are  bent  on  purchasing,  but 
if  you  do,  my  advice  is  to  pay  at  least  six  thousand  down, 
and  have  the  mortgage  small." 

"  But  how  am  I  to  get  furniture  unless  I  go  in  debt  for  it, 
and  I  don't  want  to  do  that  ?" 

"  And  I  don't  want  you  to  do  that.  Your  family  is  so  small 
now,  you  need  not  furnish  the  whole  house,  and  because 
you  are  going  into  a  first-class  neighborhood,  that  is  no 
reason  why  you  should  have  first-class  furniture." 

"  But  I  must  have  things  in  keeping  with  my  house." 

"  Oh,  if  it  comes  to  must,  there  is  no  use  of  my  saying 
any  more,  only  I  would  advise  you  not  to  let  so  much  stand 
on  mortgage — when  that  three  thousand  comes  due,  you  may 
find  it  difficult  to  pay — you  know  there  must  be  dull  seasons, 
Robert." 

"  Yes,  but  I  don't  dread  them  ;  we  are  well  established, 
and  I  have  a  first-rate  run  of  customers  ;  besides,  they  will 
increase  every  season — for  each  of  us  attends  to  our  busi 
ness  steadily." 

"  What  rent  do  you  pay  for  your  store  ?" 

"  Six  thousand  dollars." 

"  That's  a  high  rent,  is  it  not  ?" 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  but  it  is,  but  it  is  a  first-rate  stand 
for  business." 

"  You  meant  to  say  first-class,  Eobert,  and  then  it  would 
2 


18      THREE  PEK  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

match  your  house.  I  really  think  as  you  have  just  begun, 
and  don't  know  what  may  turn  up  in  a  year  or  two,  you  had 
better  wait  awhile  ;  all  the  houses  in  New  York  won't  be  sold 
in  a  year  hence." 

"  Yes,  but  I  don't  believe  I  can  get  such  another  bar 
gain." 

"  What  does  it  cost  to  board  your  family  now  ?" 

"  About  fifteen  hundred  a  year  I  think,  all  told. 

"  And  other  expenses  I  suppose  five  hundred  more  ?" 

"  About  that,  I  presume." 

"  Do  you  suppose  you  can  keep  a  first-class  house  in  a 
first-class  neighborhood,  for  anything  like  that  ?" 

"  Of  course  not.  It  will  cost  me  from  four  to  five 
thousand,  I  have  no  doubt.  But  I  am  making  seven 
thousand  a  year." 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  make  that  out.  You  have  made  it 
once  ;  but  suppose  your  country  customers  don't  pay  up 
promptly,  wouldn't  it  be  better  to  have  something  you  can 
fall  back  upon  and  save  your  credit  ?  Or  suppose  they  go 
elsewhere  and  buy;  you  know  they  will  go  where  they  can 
buy  the  cheapest  goods." 

"  I  know  that  very  well,  but  if  I  make  my  seven  thousand 
a  year,  and  spend  four,  there  are  three  to  fall  back  on." 

"  And  suppose  you  hare  to  fall  back  upon  it,  and  your 
three-thousand  mortgage  comes  due,  what  will  you  do  then  ?'; 

"  Oh,  that's  three  years  off.  If  I  can't  save  three  thou 
sand  dollars  in  three  years,  I  had  better  give  up  business." 

"  Upon  my  word,  Kobert,"  said  Mr.  Hardman,  speaking 


LOOKING     FOE     A     HOUSE.  19 

very  earnestly,  "  I  think  you  are  acting  rashly.  Because  you 
have  had  a  good  year's  business,  and  have  got  a  few  thou 
sand  ahead,  you  seem  to  think  you  must  spend  them  right 
off." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  am  going  to  invest  them.  Surely  you  don't 
call  it  foolish  to  spend  money  on  a  house  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  do,  till  you  are  sure  you  can  pay  for  it,  and  until 
you  really  need  one.  You  are  wrong,  and  mark  my  words, 
you  will  find  it  out  yet." 

"  I  am  sorry  you  think  so,  but " 

"  Don't  say  but.  Board  for  a  couple  of  years  yet,  and 
when  you  have  saved  enough  to  buy  a  house,  buy  and 
pay  for  it ;  give  it  to  your  wife,  and  then  you  have  got  a 
home.  But  it  is  no  home  so  long  as*  any  other  man  owns 
more  of  the  house  than  you  do.  I  should  not  call  this 
a  home,  if  I  owed  two-thirds  of  its  value  to  some  one  else." 

"  Well,  I  will  think  it  over.  I  have  not  closed  the  bar 
gain  yet,  and  am  not  to  give  answer  until  twelve  to-mor 
row." 

"  Talk  it  over  with  your  wife.  Tell  her  what  I  say, 
and » 

"  Oh,  she  always  sides  with  you." 

"You  asked  my  advice.  Kobert — I  did  not  volunteer,"  said 
Mr.  Hardman,  a  little  hurt  at  the  tone  in  which  the  last 
remark  was  uttered. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Hardman,  I  did  not  mean  any 
thing  by  that  remark  :  only  I  had  made  up  my  mind." 

"Well,  go  home  and  unmake  it  as  soon  as  possible,"  said 


20     THEEE  PEE  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

his  friend,  laughing.  "  Bat  mark  my  words,  as  sure  as  you 
buy  that  house  and  pay  so  little  down,  you  will  never  pay 
the  balance." 

"  What  folly  to  talk  so  I     Didn't  I  just  explain " 

The  conversation  was  here  interrupted  by  the  servant, 
who  entering,  announced  Mr.  Benson. 

"  Tell  him  'to  come  in,"  said  Mr.  Hardman.  "  Sit  still, 
Robert.  I  want  you  to  see  this  man  ;  perhaps  you  may 
learn  something  from  him  ;"  and  as  Mr.  Benson  entered, 
Arnold  wondered  what  he  could  possibly  gain  in  the  way  of 
information  from  such  a  man. 

Mr.  Benson  was  a  young  carpenter,  who  had  only  been  in 
business  for  himself  about  three  years,  but  he  had  acted  ever 
with  such  promptness»and  integrity  as  to  command  the  good 
will  of  every  one  for  whom  he  had  worked,  and  from  none 
more  sincerely  than  from  Mr.  Hardman,  whose  store  he  had 
fitted  up. 

Benson  was  educated  much  more  thoroughly  than  many 
mechanics,  and  he  found  a  decided  advantage  hi  that  circum 
stance  ;  for  being  enabled  to  calculate  to  a  nicety,  he  had 
been  enabled  to  secure  some  handsome  jobs,  by  underbidding 
older  and  more  experienced  men,  who  wondered  how  he 
could  make  money  at  such  rates. 

But  he  did  make  money,  and  what  proved  better  than 
money  to  him,  he  made  friends. 

Mr.  Hardman,  who  had  awarded  to  him  the  fitting  up  of 
a  very  large  store,  took  a  great  interest  in  him.  He  saw 
him  superintending  everything  himself,  and  not  afraid  to 


LOOKING     FOE,     A     HOUSE.  21 

show  his  journeymen  an  example  of  faithful  industry.  This 
pleased  Mr.  Hardman,  who,  when  he  paid  his  last  installment, 
told  him,  that  if  he  ever  needed  a  friend,  he  might  call  on 

him. 

"  Good  evening,  Benson,"  he  said  cordially,  as  the  visitor 

entered  ;  "  sit  down.     How  are  the  folks  at  home  ?" 

"  Thank  you — all  very  well,"  said  Benson,  seating  himself 
with  perfect  self-possession,  and  encouraged  by  the  frankness 
of  his  reception. 

"  Well,  Benson,  how  go  matters  with  you  ?  Busy 
now  ?" 

"  Very.  I  have  come,  Mr.  Hardman,  to  see  if  you  can 
help  me  a  little.  I  have  put  in  for  a  contract  for  fitting  up 
a  row  of  houses  going  up  in  Twenty-eighth  street,  and  as  it 
was  awarded  to  me  this  morning,  I  shall  be  oblige  to  pur 
chase  a  large  quantity  of  lumber  at  once.  By  buying  for 
cash,  I  know  where  there  is  a  parcel  I  can  get  cheap." 

"  How  much  money  do  you  want  ?  I  suppose  that  is  what 
you  mean  ?" 

"A  couple  of  thousand  dollars,  sir.  I  can  give,  good 
security." 

"  Shall  you  make  anything  on  the  contract  ?" 

"  I  expect  to  clear  in  the  neighborhood  of  a  thousand  dol 
lars,  if  I  can  go  to  work  right  away,  as  wages  are  a  little 
down  now,  and  if  I  can  get  this  lumber.  I  can  give  you 
a  mortgage  on  my  house  in  Forty-second  street  as  security, 
if  you  can  let  me  have  the  money." 

'  How  much  is  there  on  it  now,  Benson  ?" 


22     THREE  PER  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

"  Not  a  cent,  sir,  or  I  would  not  offer  it  to  you.  I  didn't 
buy  till  I  could  pay  for  it,  and  it  is  my  own  now." 

Mr.  Hardman  cast  a  passing  glance  at  Arnold,  and  saw 
that  a  very  faint  flush  crossed  his  cheek. 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Hardman,  I  don't  believe  in  owning  a  house, 
and  paying  rent  to  somebody  else  for  it." 

"  How  long  do  you  want  this  money  ?" 

"  Not  over  three  months.  I  shall  finish  the  job  inside  of 
that,  but  I  don't  want  to  pay  interest  any  longer  than  I  can 
help." 

Another  glance  at  Mr.  Arnold  showed  that  he  appreciated 
the  full  force  of  this  remark. 

"  Well,  Benson,  give  me  your  note  at  three  months,  and 
I'll  discount  it  for  you." 

"  Shall  I  see  you  in  the  morning  ?" 

"No.  Make  the  note  now,  and  I'll  draw  a  check  for 
you." 

It  did  not  take  long  to  do  this,  and  Mr.  Benson,  with  an 
earnest  profession  of  thanks  for  the  timely  assistance  so 
promptly  rendered,  received  his  check,  and  took  his  leave. 

"  Now,  I  like  that  man,"  said  Mr.  Hardman,  as  he  heard 
the  front  door  close.  "He  will  be  a  rich  man  yet.  He 
never  does  anything  without  calculating  to  a  fraction  how 
he  is  to  come  out,  and  he  never  goes  beyond  his  depth." 

"  Ah,  but  he  did  this  time.  He  had  to  come  to  you  to 
borrow  money  to  purchase  lumber  for  this  contract." 

"  Yes,  but  if  I  had  not  loaned  it  to  him,  he  could  have 
gone  to  any  insurance  company,  and  procured  the  money  on 


LOOKING     FOK     A     HOUSE.  23 

his  house.  Didn't  you  hear  him  say  it  was  all  paid 
for  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Arnold,  coloring  slightly,  but  making  no 
further  remark  on  that  subject.  "  You  seem  to  take  a  great 
fancy  to  that  man,"  he  continued,  evidently  desiring  to 
divert  attention  from  himself. 

"  Well,  I  do.  I  saw  him  first  when  he  commenced  for 
himself.  He  hired  a  lot  just  above  me  in  this  street,  and  a8 
I  passed  to  and  fro,  I  always  saw  him  at  work,  early  and 
late.  I  have  seen  him  at  work  many  a  time  before  his  men 
came,  and  after  they  had  gone,  and  I  made  up  my  mind 
that  he  had  the  right  stuff  in  him.  I  put  him  up  to  go  in 
for  finishing  my  store,  and  I  advanced  him  money  to  get 
materials.  I  afterwards  made  some  inquiries  about  him, 
and  learned  that  he  had  always  been  prudent,  economical, 
invariably  saving  something  every  week,  so  that  when  he 
married,  he  had  saved  up  enough  to  buy  and  pay  for  a 
little  cottage  on  Forty-second  street  which  he  purchased  for 
a  mere  song.  That  cottage  and  lot  are  worth  now  five  tunes 
what  he  gave  for  them,  but  he  won't  sell.  He  lives  there 
contentedly — makes  money,  and  is  happy." 

"  Well,  I  see  now  what  you  mean  by  saying  that  I  might 
learn  something  from  him.  I'll  think  it  over  about  my 
house,  and  see  you  soon." 

And  after  a  few  minutes  passed  in  general  conversation, 
the  friends  separated. 


THKEE  PER  CENT.   A   MONTH. 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE    HOUSE    BOUGHT. 

MR.  ARNOLD  was  not  in  the  best  humor  with  himself  or 
bis  friend  when  he  leffe  the  house  ;  for,  although  he  had  gone 
there  for  the  purpose  of  consulting  and  advising  with  him 
as  to  the  purchase  of  the  house,  he  was  not  exactly  pleased 
to  find  so  many  objections  raised — objections  to  which  he 
had  to  yield  the  character  at  least  of  plausibility. 

Mentally,  he  felt  convinced  that  his  friend  had  given  him 
good  advice,  but  he  did  not  like  it,  for  the  reason  that  it 
ran  counter  to  his  wishes,  when  he  had  expected  just  the 
reverse  from  him,  and  he  felt  inclined  to  think  Mr.  Hardman 
somewhat  censorious  and  over  particular.  On  the  road 
home,  he  stopped  in  at  a  segar  store  to  replenish  his  stock, 
and,  as  luck  would  have  it,  stumbled  upon  the  agent  who 
had  brought  the  house  to  his  notice  in  the  first  place,  and 
who  was  urgent  to  have  him  secure  so  great  a  bargain. 

This  gentleman  was  much  pleased  at  the  meeting,  and 
immediately  remarked  that  he  intended  to  have  written  to 
him  in  the  morning  concerning  the  house,  because  if  he  had 


THE      HOUSE     BOUGHT.  25 

not  made  up  his  mind  to  take  it,  he  had  two  other  parties 
ready  to  jump  at  it,  it  /was  so  great  a  bargain. 

This  was  "  a  legitimate  lie,"  but  it  had  its  full  effect,  and 
before  Mr.  Arnold  reached  his  boarding-house,  he  had 
almost  made  up  his  mind  to  think  no  more  of  the  croakings, 
as  he  termed  them,  of  his  friend  Hardman,  but  to  act  for 
once  on  his  own  judgment. 

Filled  with  these  thoughts,  he  entered  his  rooms,  and 
found  there  a  couple-of  intimate  friends,  with  their  wives, 
who  had  called  to  pass  the  evening  with  him. 

Fate  seemed  to  be  with  him  again,  for  one  of  those 
friends  had  that  very  day  completed  the  purchase  of  a  snug 
house  for  a  moderate  sum,  and  he  appeared  so  happy  at  the 
thought  of  having  a  home  of  his  own,  Mr.  Arnold  actually 
envied  even  his  anticipation  ;  but  when,  carried  away  by  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  moment,  he  declared  that  he  too  had  that 
day  arranged  for  the  purchase  of  a  house,  the  sparkle  of  his 
wife's  bright  eyes,  and  the  pleased  expression  which  crossed 
her  features,  settled  the  business,  and  the  house  was  on  that 
instant  resolved  on  as  a  fixed  fact. 

They  passed  a  very  pleasant  evening,  building  castles  upon 
the  foundation  of  going  to  housekeeping  in  their  own  houses, 
and  many  were  the  snug  parties  arranged  for  the  winter 
evenings,  and  the  pleasant  afternoons  to  be  passed  in  an 
interchange  of  visits. 

After  his  friends  had  taken  their  leave,  Eobert  communi 
cated  to  his  wife  the  conversation  held  with  Mr.  Hardman, 
at  which  her  countenance  elongated  considerably,  for  she,  with 


26     THREE  PEE  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

a  woman's  true  tact,  "placed  unbounded  confidence  in  the 
judgment  and  experience  of  Mr.  Hardman,  as  well  as  the 
utmost  reliance  on  his  well-tried  friendship. 

"  Well,  Robert  dear,"  she  said,  with  an  expression  which 
showed  that  she  was  struggling  between  her  own  wishes  and 
the  desire  to  conform  to  the  judgment  of  their  friend,  "  had 
we  not  better  stay  here  another  year  at  least  ?  Perhaps  you 
can  get  the  same  house  then  ;  if  not,  we  can  surely  get 
another." 

"  No,  Belle,  I  have  resolved  to  purchase  this  at  once,  even 
if  I  don't  move  into  it.  I  dare  say  I  could  sell  it  immedi 
ately  at  an  advance  of  a  thousand  dollars,"  though,  to  telj 
the  truth,  he  hardly  believed  himself  as  he  spoke  ;  "  such  a 
bargain  is  not  to  be  had  every  day,  and  I  won't  lose  the 
chance,  if  I  can  help  it." 

"  But  Mr.  Hardman,  I  am  afraid,  won't  like  it.  You  go 
to  him  for  advice,  and  then  do  exactly  the  reverse  of  what 
he  counsels." 

"  Oh  no  ;  you  put  things  in  the  wrong  light,  Belle.  He 
only  thought  that  if  I  was  going  to  buy,  I  had  better  pay 
more  down  at  once.  He  did  not  object  so  much  to  my 
buying." 

"  But  why  don't  you  do  as  he  says,  then  ?" 

"  We  must  have  something  to  furnish  with — and  the 
house  must  be  painted  and  put  in  perfect  order." 

"  Why,  I  thought  it  was  in  order  now  ?" 

"  Oh  yes,  of  course  it  is,  but  then  as  long  as  I  am  going 
to  own  it,  I  want  to  have  it  fixed  to  suit  myself.  No,  I 


THE     HOUSE     BOUGHT.  27 

can't  pay  any  more  down,  without  going  in  debt  for  my  fur 
niture,  and  I  won't  do  that." 

"No,  that  would  not  do,  of  course,"  replied  his  wife, 
very  firmly,  not  perceiving  how  very  little  difference  there 
was  in  reality  between  running  hi  debt  for  a  house  or  for  its 
furniture.  "  Of  course  not,  that  I  know  Mr.  Hardman 
would  condemn  ;  I  declare  I  don't  know  what  to  do." 

"  I  tell  you  what  I  will  do,  Belle,"  and  he  drew  a  quarter 
of  a  dollar  from  his  pocket ;  "  I  will  toss  up — head  for  the 
house,"  and  up  went  the  coin,  and  head  came  uppermost. 

"  There,  there's  no  use  of  saying  another  word  about  it 
Belle.  Heads  have  it,  and  the  house  is  ours  ;"  and  having 
thus  satisfied  his  conscience,  for  he  felt  a  slight  twinge  of 
self-reproach  at  the  disregard  of  Mr.  Hardman's  excellent 
advice,  he  kissed  his  wife,  and  told  her  to  make  up  her  mind 
to  go  to  housekeeping,  as  soon  as  he  could  get  the  house  in 
order. 

It  was  then  arranged  that  they  should  remain  where  they 
were  until  everything  was  in  readiness  for  their  removal,  and 
meantime  they  would  keep  their  own  counsel,  and  not  say  a 
word  to  any  of  their  friends  on  the  subject,  for  it  was 
intended,  as  soon  as  they  were  settled,  to  surprise  them  by  an 
evening  party  in  their  own  house. 

The  next  morning,  half-an-hour  before  the  time  appointed, 
Mr.  Arnold  was  at  the  broker's,  and  having  signed  the 
necessary  papers,  he  drew  a  check  for  five  hundred  dollars 
as  a  deposit,  and  went  his  way  rejoicing,  to  his  store. 

If  he  had  only  waited  that  half  hour — but  no  matter — 
let  things  speak  for  themselves. 


28      THREE  PEK  GENT.   A  MONTH. 

As  lie  was  moving  onward,  with  his  head  very  high  in  the 
air,  for  he  felt  already  the  care,  dignity,  and  consequence 
attaching  to  a  house-owner,  he  was  accosted  by  an  old 
friend,  who  could  not  help  laughing  outright  at  the  expres 
sion  of  Arnold's  face. 

"  What  are  you  laughing  at  ?"  he  inquired. 

"  Why  if  you  could  have  seen  your  face  as  I  saw  it  then, 
I  think  you  would  have  laughed  too — what  have  you  been 
doing  ?" 

"  Nothing  to  laugh  at,  Frank.  I  have  just  bought  a 
house." 

"  Oh,  that  accounts  for  it.  Really,  you  looked  as  if  you 
had  the  cares  and  responsibility  of  the  country  on  your 
shoulders,  and  after  all  it  was  only  '  our  house.'  Really, 
Robert,  I  hope  you  will  never  be  a  very  rich  man,  if  one 
house  affects  you  so.  Where  is  it  ? — how  much  did  it  cost, 
and  so  forth  ?"  inquired  his  friend  talking  his  arm  familiarly. 

"  In  Twenty-second  Street,  No.  — ,  and  the  price  eleven 
five.  That's  a  business  answer,  eh  ?" 

"  Well  it  is.     When  did  you  buy,  and  from  whom  ?" 

"  Not  ten  minutes  ago,  and  from  Mr.  Martin." 

"  Well,  if  I  had  met  you  ten  minutes  sooner,  I  could  have 
given  you  some  good  advice." 

"As  how?" 

"  Why,  by  telling  you  that  if  you  had  gone  to  the  owner 
of  the  house,  you  could  have  got  it  for  eleven  thousand,  and 
that  it  will  cost  you  over  five  hundred  to  put  it  in  order." 

Mr.  Arnold  looked  rather  incredulous,  but  his  friend  con 
tinued — "  I  know,  this,  Bob,  for  I  know  of  one  at  least,  to 


THE     HOUSE     BOUGHT.  29 

whom  it  was  offered  at  eleven  thousand,  and  who  refused  it 
because  it  would  cost,  at  the  lowest  estimate,  five  hundred  to 
put  it  in  decent  order." 

"  But  I  went  through  every  part  of  it.  I  am  sure  it  looks 
to  be  in  excellent  condition." 

"  You  were  not  brought  up  as  a  builder,  I  believe  ?" 

"  Not  exactly." 

"Well,  my  friend  had  it  thoroughly  examined  by  a 
builder,  and  that  was  what  he  said.  But  it  ain't  so  very  bad 
after  all.  It's  a  fine  growing  neighborhood,  and  I  have  no 
doubt  that  in  a  year  or  two  the  rise  in  property  there  will 
more  than  make  you  whole  for  all  you  have  to  spend." 

Arnold's  countenance  brightened  up  a  little  at  this,  but  he 
was  a  little,  a  very  little  vexed  at  the  broker  who  had 
managed  to  get  five  hundred  dollars  out  of  him  more  than 
the  owner  asked  for  the  house.  Howej.gr,  he  made  up  his 
mind  to  be  more  careful  hereafter,  ancWo  keep  a  sharp  look 
out.  It  was  too  late  now  to  remedy  it,  and  what  "  could  not 
be  cured  must  be  endured."  And  so  the  house  was  bought, 
and  great  was  the  rejoicing  of  husband  and  wife  when  the 
act  was  consummated.  They  fairly  ached  to  speak  of  it 
among  their  friends,  but  true  to  their  promise  to  each  other, 
they  forebore,  fully  resolved  to  have  a  grand  time  when 
they  moved  in,  and  received  their  friends  in  their  own  house 
for  the  first  time. 

On  the  first  of  May,  in  accordance  with  the  custom  much 
more  honored  in  the  breach  than  in  the  observance,  the  occu 
pants  of  the  newly  purchased  house  moved  out,  and  Mr 


30     THREE  PER  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

Arnold  and  Ms  wife  were  afforded  an  excellent  opportunity 
of  examining  their  bargain. 

To  say  that  their  faces  elongated  considerably,  would  be 
but  to  say  small  portion  of  the  truth.  At  first  they  were 
sad — then  mortified — and  they  wound  up  by  getting  decid 
edly  angry.  The  house  had  been  built  to  sell,  and  being 
handsomely  furnished  at  the  tune  of  the  purchase,  looked  to 
be  in  perfect  order. 

But  now,  with  empty  rooms  and  bare  floors,  ah1  the  glar 
ing  defects  were  plainly  visible.  The  floors  were  laid  with 
the  most  common  pine,  and  very  unevenly  at  that.  The 
surbases  were  shrunken,  and  in  many  places  loose.  The  win 
dow  frames  jarred,  and  the  windows  would  scarcely  open,  or 
shut  when  opened. 

But  the  house  was  theirs,  and  they  must  make  the  best  of  it. 
With  something  MEY  like  a  qualified  oath,  Arnold  locked 
the  front  door,  and^it  the  key  in  his  pocket,  and  telling  his 
wife  to  go  home,  he  started  for  Mr.  Benson's  shop  ;  for  he 
knew  that  he  would  give  a  correct  estimate  as  to  the  sum 
needed  to  put  the  house  in  order. 

Mr.  Benson  was  not  in,  but  leaving  the  key  with  his  fore 
man,  Mr.  Arnold  requested  that  he  would  go  around  and 
make  the  necessary  examination  and  estimates,  letting  him 
know  the  result  as  early  as  possible. 

The  next  morning  Arnold  received  the  required  document 
from  Mr.  Benson.  It  was  in  black  and  white,  and  there  could 
be  no  mistake.  It  footed  up  five  hundred  and  seventy-nine 
dollars,  for  actual  necessary  repairs.  Then  it  must  be 


THE    HOUSE    BOUGHT.  31 

painted,  which  would  cost  two  hundred  and  fifty  more,  at 
least,  according  to  the  plan  and  designs  he  had  adopted. 
He  grumbled  terribly  at  the  imposition  which  had  been  prac 
ticed  on  him;  but  bottling  up  his  wrath,  he  made  up  his 
'  mind  to  pocket  the  thousand  dollars  of  loss,  and  say  nothing 
about  it. 

Mr.  Benson  received  directions  to  go  on  with  the  repairs 
at  once ;  the  painting  was  commenced,  and  in  two  weeks  his 
house  was  ready  for  occupancy ;  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  when 
this  was  all  completed,  the  house  looked  so  well,  and  so 
comfortable,  Arnold  fancied  he  had  not  made  such  a  very 
bad  bargain  after  all. 

The  furnishing  was  commenced,  and  by  the  time  it  was 
finished,  Arnold  found  that  not  only  was  his  three  thousand 
cash,  which  he  had  left  after  the  payment  on  the  house, 
gone,  swallowed  up  by  his  repairs,  painting,  and  furniture, 
but  he  had  given  out  notes  for  nearly  two  thousand  more, 
on  account  of  furniture,  which  he  was  obliged  to  procure  on 
time,  or  go  without.  True,  it  was  not  absolutely  necessary, 
for  his  parlors  would  have  looked  very  well  in  the  summer 
without  the  splendid  curtains  which  cost  four  hundred  dol 
lars  for  the  four  windows,  but  then,  they  would  have  to  be 
bought  at  some  time,  and  he  might  as  well  have  them  now 
as  ever — and  they  were  had. 

But  to  leave  these  details,  the  house  was  completely  and 
elegantly  furnished,  and  it  was  with  an  emotion  of  pride  and 
happiness,  Robert  Arnold  hailed  his  wife  as  she  entered  the 
elegant  parlors,  as  the  mistress  of  her  own  house. 

The  children  (for  they  had  two,  Robert  and  Ida)  were 


32     THREE  PEE  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

frantic  with  delight ;  for  after  being  penned  up  in  one  room 
in  a  boarding-house  all  their  lives,  the  freedom  of  this  beau 
tiful  mansion,  with  its  many  and  elegant  rooms,  was  a 
luxury  which  they  could  well  appreciate,  and  the  happy 
parents  participated  in  their  joy. 

On  the  evening  of  the  day  which  saw  them  for  the  first 
time  occupants  of  their  own  house,  Eobert  and  his  wife  paid 
a  call  on  Mr.  Hardman  ;  and  while  Belle  was  in  the  parlor 
with  Mrs.  Hardman  and  the  children,  Eobert  found  his  way 
to  the  library,  where  Mr.  Hardman  was  seated,  looking  over 
Borne  accounts. 

"  So,  you've  done  it,  Kobert  ?"  was  his  salutation,  point 
ing  to  a  seat,  which  Mr.  Arnold  took,  with  a  laugh  not  at 
all  hearty. 

"  Why,  how  did  you  know  it  ?  Belle  and  I  agreed  not  to 
say  a  word  about  i^  until  everything  was  done,  and  then  we 
were  to  have  you  and  your  family  around  at  tea." 

"  Benson  told  me.  A  precious  bargain  you  have  made, 
Robert.  If  you  had  sent  Benson  there  before  you  pur 
chased,  you  might  have  saved  some  hundreds." 

"  Oh,  well,  that  can't  be  helped  now.  I  did  put  my  foot 
in  a  little,  but  I  think  I  shall  know  better  next  time^ 
Really,  Mr.  Hardman,  now  it  is  fixed  and  furnished,  it  is  an 
elegant  house,  and  worth  all  I  have  paid  on  all  hands. 

"  Now,  we  want  a  promise  from  you  to  keep  yourselves 
disengaged  next  Friday  evening.  We  are  to  have  some 
friends  to  warm  our  new  house,  but  without  you  there  would 
be  no  real  pleasure.  You  will  come  ?" 

"  I  leave  these  things  to  my  wife.     Of  course,  if  she  has 


THE    HOUSE     BOUGHT.  33 

no  engagement  she  will  be  there,  and  I  will  come  around 
during  the  evening." 

Knowing  Mr.  Hardman's  peculiar  dislike  to  large  compa 
nies,  Arnold  was  glad  to  have  obtained  this  promise,  and 
after  a  pleasant  evening,  they  returned  to  their  own  house. 


34     THREE  PER  CENT.  A  MONTH. 


CHAPTER   III. 

THE   FIRST   SpMMER  IN  THE   COUNTRY. 

IT  is  not  necessary  to  the  purpose  of  this  tale  to  describe 
in  detail  the  party  which  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Arnold  gave  on  the 
occasion  of  "  warming  their  new  house."  There  was  the 
usual  quantity  of  silks,  satins,  laces  and  jewelry.  Every 
thing  was  publicly  admired  and  commended  as  displaying 
the  most  admirable  taste,  while,  if  either  could  have  heard 
the  remarks  made  in  private  among  some  of  the  guests,  at 
the  profuse  extravagance  of  every  thing  which  surrounded 
them,  they  would  not  have  retired  at  the  close  of  the  party 
quite  so  self-contented  as  they  did. 

About  eleven  o'clock,  Mr.  Hardman,  who  had  been 
attending  to  some  important  business  in  the  lower  part  of 
the  city,  came  around  as  he  had  promised,  and  according  to 
his  usual  custom,  he  entered  the  rooms  unannounced,  and 
desirous  of  avoiding  notice. 

He  was  fairly  dazzled  with  the  glare  and  luxury  which 
surrounded  him.  Rich  velvet  carpets,  large  and  costly  mir 
rors,  superb  chandeliers,  damask  covered  furniture,  in  fact 


THE    FIRST    SUMMER     IN    THE    COUNTRY.    35 

/ 

every  thing  in  the  room  corresponded  to  the  character  of 
the  house  and  the  neighborhood,  as  it  had  been  named  by 
Robert — it  was  first  class, 

A  frown  contracted  his  brow,  for  his  experience  told  him 
how  much  this  must  have  cost,  and  he  could  not  help  feeling 
a  pang  of  disappointment,  as  he  saw  how  foolishly  extrava 
gant  Arnold  had  been  in  his  expenditures. 

Mentally  renewing  the  prediction  which  he  had  made 
when  the  subject  of  the  purchase  was  first  made,  he  gave 
another  sigh  over  the  folly  of  his  young  friend,  and  in  a 
moment  afterwards,  found  himself  seized  on  either  hand  by 
Robert  and  his  wife,  for  they  both  warmly  loved  him,  and  as 
they  had  said,  without  his  presence  the  party  would  have 
been  dull  indeed. 

The  evening  passed  over  as  all  other  evenings,  devoted  to 
similar  senseless  purposes,  must.  One  by  one,  or  rather,  in 
pairs,  the  delighted  guests  departed,  and  when  the  door 
closed  upon  the  retreating  forms  of  the  last  couple,  Robert 
and  Belle  threw  themselves  each  upon  a  sofa,  and  exclaimed 
in  the  same  breath,  "  what  a  delightful  evening  1" 

And  now  that  the  house  had  been  purchased,  furnished, 
occupied  and  warmed,  they  must  settle  down  to  the  ordinary 
routine  of  daily  duties  ;  and  each  performed  their  part  well. 

Robert  was  as  prompt  and  as  attentive  at  his  business  as 
ever,  and  prosperity  continued  to  smile  upon  his  efforts. 
Indeed  she  fairly  laughed  outright,  so  that  Robert's  heart 
was  gladdened,  as  he  felt  how  little  chance  there  was  for  the 
realization  of  Mr.  Hardman's  croaking  predictions. 


36     THEEE  PEE  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

True,  he  found  his  expenses  considerably — nay,  largely 
increased.  Every  day  or  two  his  wife  wanted  money  for  the 
house,  and  occasionally  for  herself  and  the  children  ;  for 
living  now  in  such  a  house  and  in  such  a  neighborhood,  they 
must  dress  accordingly,  and  they  did  dress 

Robert  made  no  objections,  for  he  too  had  something  of 
that  pride  which  leads  too  many  men  to  go  beyond  their 
depth  for  appearance's  sake,  and  as  their  business  was  increas 
ing  beyond  their  expectations,  he  saw  no  reason  why  he 
should  not  live  in  the  same  style  as  many  whom  he  knew 
were  not  doing  half  the  business  he  was. 

July  came  around  with  its  broiling  sun,  and  hot  winds, 
and  Belle  and  the  children  were  almost  stifled  with  the  heat. 
In  vain  they  walked  up  and  down  Broadway  every  afternoon 
— that  did  not  refresh  them — there  was  so  much  dust,  and 
the  air  was  so  foul.  Indeed  they  ought  to  have  a  change  of 
air.  Besides,  there  was  nobody  in  town.  All  their  Mends 
and  acquaintances  had  gone  to  the  country,  and  they  ought 
to  go,  too. 

And  of  course  they  went.  Mr.  Arnold  found  a  very  beau 
tiful  boarding-place  on  the  banks  of  the  Sound,  about  an 
hour's  ride  from  the  city.  He  could  come  out  every  evening,  and 
reach  the  city  quite  early  enough  in  the  morning,  for  at  that 
season  of  the  year,  business  was  not  very  brisk.  The  price 
for  the  whole  of  them  was  only  forty  dollars  a  week,  but 
then  they  had  two  rooms  which  looked  out  upon  the  Sound 
— a  fine  lawn  for  the  children  to  play  on,  and  plenty  of 
woods  near  at  hand  in  which  to  ramble. 


So  the  house  was  shut  up,  the  cook  and  chambermaid 
were  discharged,  and  with  the  nurse  they  moved  to  their 
new  quarters. 

Much  to  his  delight,  Eobert  found  two  of  his  city  friends 
among  the  boarders,  and  this  made  their  residence  much  the 
more  pleasant.  It  was  arranged  that  when  business  allowed, 
they  were  to  stay  up  from  the  city  for  a  week,  and  get  up 
riding,  sailing,  and  fishing  parties,  in  which  they  were  to 
have  a  grand  time  generally. 

Only  one  thing  more  was  wanted  to  complete  their  happi 
ness,  and  their  establishment. 

Mr.  Arnold's  city  friends  each  kept  their  horse  and  wagon, 
and  it  was  so  pleasant  for  them  when  they  came  up  in  the 
afternoon,  to  take  their  families  riding  in  the  cool  of  the 
day. 

Mrs.  Arnold  had  been  indebted  several  times  to  each  of 
her  friends  for  pleasant  rides,  and  began  to  think  how 
pleasant  it  should  be,  if  Robert  only  had  his  horse. 
She  wondered  to  herself  how  much  a  horse  and  wagon 
would  cost,  and  if  Robert  would  get  one  if  she  were  to  ask 
him.  He  might  get  a  very  gentle  horse,  and  she  could 
drive  out  with  the  children,  and  that  would  be  so  pleasant. 

She  did  not,  however,  say  anything  to  her  husband,  for 
her  conscience  told  her  that  it  was  quite  an  unnecessary  piece 
of  expense,  no  matter  how  much  it  might  add  to  her  present 
pleasure. 

One  day  Robert  failed  to  come  up  in  the  usual  train  with 
his  friends,  and  as  she  thought  business  had  kept  him,  she 


38     THREE  PEK  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

accepted  an  invitation  from  one  of  the  gentlemen  to  ride 
with  himself  and  his  wife. 

They  took  the  road  which  led  to  the  city,  and  the  aftei 
noon  being  very  lovely,  they  were  having  a  charming  time 
About  five  miles  from  the  village  in  which  they  were  stop* 
ping,  they  saw  a  gentleman  in  a  top  wagon,  driving  very 
leisurely  towards  them,  and  as  they  came  within  recognizing 
distance,  Belle  fairly  screamed  with  delight,  for  it  was  her 
husband.  The  meeting  was  hailed  by  every  one  with  plea 
sure,  and  Belle  saw  through  the  whole  at  once. 

Kobert  had  wearied  of  being  always  under  obligations  to 
his  friends,  and  had  purchased  a  horse  and  wagon.  "Dear, 
good  soul  I"  how  she  thanked  him  in  her  heart,  and  wouldn't 
she  kiss  him  when  she  reached  home. 

Of  course  she  gladly  left  her  friend's  wagon,  and  seated 
herself  beside  her  husband,  who  in  a  few  words  explained 
that  he  had  indeed  purchased  the  establishment  that  day. 
"But,"  he  continued,  "of  course  I  only  want  it  while  we 
are  in  the  country.  I  shall  sell  out  as  soon  as  we  get  home 
again,  and  I  can  easily  get  all  I  gave  for  it." 

"  What  did  it  cost,  Robert  ?"  she  said,  looking  admiringly 
at  the  beautiful  establishment,  for  it  was  a  very  neat  and 
very  elegant  turnout. 

"The  whole  'cost  me  six  hundred  and  ten,  including 
harness  and  all  the  fixings.  The  horse,  Belle,  I  call  him  Bob, 
is  worth  the  money.  Wait  till  he  rests  a  day  or  two,  and  I 
will  show  you  what  he  can  do — only  don't  say  a  word  about 
that." 


THE    FIRST    SUMMER    IN    THE    COUNTRY.    39 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Belle,  who  was  too  happy  to  think 
of  saying  or  doing  anything  he  did  not  like  at  that  moment, 
and  she  feasted  her  eyes  again  on  their  establishment. 

"  Who  would  have  thought,  Robert,  five  years  ago,  when 
you  were  getting  a  thousand  a  year,  that  we  should  ever 
own  our  house,  and  keep  a  horse  ?"  and  she  looked  in 
his  face  with  an  expression  of  such  perfect  love  and  happi 
ness,  he  did  not  wait  for  his  kiss  until  he  got  home,  but 
stole  one  on  the  spot,  at  which  Belle  was  not  at  all  dis 
pleased. 

And  Robert  Arnold,  who,  five  years  before,  was  getting  a 
thousand  dollars  a  year,  and  who  was  then  very  glad  to  get 
it,  was  actually  the  owner  of  a  house,  besides  being  the  sole 
proprietor  of  a  horse  and  wagon,  and  he  thought  he  was 
very  happy. 

July  passed  off,  as  it  does  every  year.  Robert  and  his 
friends  had  their  riding  parties,  sailing  parties,  and  fishing 
parties,  to  say  nothing  of  other  parties  to  fill  up  the 
void. 

It  was  one  continued  round  of  miscalled  pleasure,  excite 
ment,  and  extravagance,  but  hurried  on  by  circumstances 
which  they  could  not,  because  they  made  no  effort  to,  con 
trol,  Robert  and  Belle  went  with  the  tide. 

August  came  around.  Business  was  at  a  dead  stand  still 
in  the  city.  Robert  had  his  time  on  his  hands,  and  Belle 
begged  him  to  stay  up  with  her  and  the  children.  But  tho 
excitements  and  pastimes  of  July  did  not  satisfy  August,  and 
one  evening  when  the  three  families  were  seated  on  the  back 


40     THEEE  PEE  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

piazza,  in  the  clear  soft  moonlight,  the  subject  of  a  tour  of 
pleasure  was  broached. 

The  gentlemen  jumped  at  the  idea — the  ladies  were  in 
ecstasies,  and  in  half  an  hour  after  the  matter  had  been  first 
named,  it  was  arranged  that  they  were  to  start  on  the  fol 
lowing  Monday. 

Niagara  first,  then  return  to  Saratoga  for  a  week,  and 
then  to  Newport  for  two  or  three  days.  They  would  be 
absent  not  over  two  weeks  in  all,  and  they  would  undoubt 
edly  have  a  delightful  time. 

The  next  morning  the  three  ladies  came  to  the  city  with 
their  husbands,  on  a  shopping  excursion,  for  they  must  of 
course  have  travelling  hats,  and  travelling  trunks,  and  tra 
velling  dresses,  besides  dresses  for  Niagara,  Saratoga,  and 
Newport ;  and  a  nice  time  they  had  of  it,  and  a  nice  bill 
they  ran  up  for  their  husbands  to  pay.  But  they  were  paid, 
and  the  ladies  were  perfectly  happy. 

They  followed  out  the  programme  to  the  letter — Niagara, 
Saratoga,  and  Newport,  and  returned  to  their  country  home 
just  before  the  close  of  August.  As  business  would  com 
mence  again  early  in  September,  the  gentlemen  made 
arrangements  for  returning  to  the  city  by  the  tenth  of  that 
month  ;  and  the  second  week  in  September  saw  Mr.  Arnold 
and  his  wife  once  more  in  their  own  home,  after  a  very  short 
season  of  gaiety,  dissipation,  and  extravagance. 

Robert  did  not  find  a  purchaser  for  his  establishment  at  a 
price  to  suit  him,  so  he  determined  to  keep  it  until  it  was 
too  cold  to  ride,  and  every  afternoon  when  he  could,  with 


THE    FIB8T     SUMMER    IN    THE    COUNTRY.    41 

any  propriety,  get  away  from  the  store,  he  was  to  be  seen 
"  on  the  road." 

True,  it  did  not  cost  him  but  twenty  dollars  a  month  for 
his  horse  keeping,  and  what  was  that  when  he  was  getting 
eight  or  nine  thousand  a  year  ?  But  then  there  were  other 
expenses  on  and  off  the  road,  which  swelled  his  monthly 
bills  considerably,  as  he  found  out  when  he  came  to  settle 
up. 

This  continued  until  business  demanded  all  his  attention, 
when,  finding  he  had  no  time  to  ride  without  neglecting  his 
'  store,  he  sold  his  establishment  for  about  half  of  its  cost, 
and  with  the  proceeds  paid  one  of  the  notes  he  had  given 
for  his  carpets.  So  that  was  off  his  mind. 

When  cold  weather  set  in,  the  party  season  came  with  it, 
and  it  was  one  incessant  round  of  going  and  coming.  Of 
course  this  all  cost  money,  but  the  business  of  the  concern 
could  afford  it,  and  it  went.  And  so  matters  continued 
until  the  near  approach  of  the  new  year,  until  which  time 
let  us  leave  this  gay  and  happy  family  in  the  first  season  of 
their  probation  in  their  own  house. 

One  incident,  however,  and  it  was  a  very  trifling  one, 
must  be  mentioned,  as  it  concerns  and  connects  the  parties 
thus  far  brought  to  the  reader's  notice. 

One  Sunday,  after  their  return  from  the  country,  Mr. 
Arnold  and  his  wife  were  returning  from  church  with  the 
children,  when  they  perceived  Mr.  Hardman  just  ahead  of 
them,  walking  along  very  leisurely  with  his  hands  behind 
Dim,  and  they  quickened  their  pace  in  order  to  catcli  up 


42      THREE  PEB  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

with  him,  but  just  as  they  were  within  speaking  distance,  he 
started  forward,  dropped  his  hands,  and  hurried  on. 

The  meaning  of  this  movement  was  apparent  in  another 
moment,  for  he  stopped  to  shake  hands  very  warmly  with  a 
lady  and  gentleman  who  were  coming  in  the  opposite  direc 
tion,  and  whom  he  appeared  to  greet  with  great  cordiality. 
At  the  first  glance  they  seemed  to  be  strangers  to  Mr. 
Arnold,  and  he  was  wondering  who  it  was  that  Mr.  Hard- 
man,  generally  so  unimpassioned  and  cool,  should  greet  with 
such  evident  cordiality. 

A  nearer  approach  sufficed  to  show  that  it  was  Mr.  Ben 
son  and  his  wife,  a  pretty,  modest-looking  woman.  Mr. 
Benson  looked  the  perfect  man  in  his  bright,  handsome-fit 
ting  suit  of  black,  and  his  wife  was  dressed  neatly  and  taste 
fully,  but  without  any  attempt  at  display,  while  Mrs.  Arnold 
was  all  flounces  and  laces,  and  feathers  and  ornament,  and 
even  the  children  were  dressed  more  like  a  couple  of  show 
dolls,  than  animate  beings. 

As  they  approached,  Mr.  Benson  bowed  very  cordially  to 
Arnold,  and  extended  his  hand,  which  was  taken  with  some 
thing  like  hesitation.  The  introduction  of  the  ladies  took 
place,  and  after  a  few  very  commonplace  remarks,  they  sepa 
rated,  Mr.  Hardman  joining  Arnold  and  his  wife. 

"  That  Benson  is  a  fine  looking  man,"  said  Mr.  Arnold 

"  He  is  more  than  that,"  was  the  reply  of  Mr.  Hardman, 
with  more  emphasis  than  seemed  called  for  by  the  remark. 
"  He  will  be  a  leading  man  yet  in  his  business." 

"  What  is  his  business  ?"  asked  Belle. 


THE    FIBST    SUMMER     IN     THE    COUNTRY.    43 

"  A  carpenter.  You  ought  to  know,  Mrs.  Arnold,  as  it 
was  he  who  put  your  house  in  order." 

"  Oh  1" — that  was  all  she  said,  but  it  meant  a  whole 
volume. 

After  leaving  Mr.  Hardman,  Mr.  Benson  was  the  subject 
of  conversation  between  Robert  and  his  wife,  and  the  highly- 
dressed  lady  of  the  gentleman  who  owned  his  house  and 
kept  a  horse,  was  very  slightly  indignant  that  any  introduc 
tion  had  taken  place  at  all.  Five  years  ago,  and  she  might 
not  have  thought  so,  but  "  Honor -es  mutant-  mores,"  and  the 
incident  is  only  narrated,  as  slightly  characterizing  the 
changes  wrought  by  one  season  of  prosperity. 


44     THBEE  PER  CENT.  A  MONTH. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE   CARPENTER'S   WIFE. 

TOWARDS  the  close  of  the  year,  Mr.  Hardman  was  waited 
on  one  day  at  his  office  by  Mr.  Benson,  who,  as  he  said,  pre 
ferred  not  to  trouble  him  at  his  house  on  business. 

"  Oh,  never  mind  that.  Come  always  and  when  you 
choose  ;  I  can  talk  of  business  any  where.  Well,  how  did 
you  get  on  with  that  contract,  Benson  ?" 

"  I  made  what  I  expected  to,  within  a  few  dollars  ;  but  I 
have  a  much  larger  one  on  hand,  on  which  I  shall  clear 
three  or  four  thousand  dollars  -that  is,  if  the  houses  are 
closed  in,  so  that  I  can  work  through  the  cold  weather." 

"  Indeed,  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it.  Do  you  require  any 
assistance  with  that  j"' 

"  None  at  all,  I  thank  you  ;  I  have  come  on  a  different 
matter.  I  have  sold  my  place  in  Forty-second  street." 

Indeed  ;  what  was  your  motive  in  doing  that  ?  I  thought 
you  had  a  snug  place  there,  and  it  was  growing  every  day." 

"  True  ;  but  I  found  a  customer,  or  rather  he  found  me, 
who  offered  seventy-five  hundred  cash  for  it.  The  house, 


THE    CARPENTER'S   WIFE.  45 

you  know,  was  not  much,  but  I  thought  it  was  full  as  much 
as  the  property  would  ever  be  worth,  and  I  let  him  have  it. 
It  stood  me  in  only  twenty-one  hundred  dollars,  and  I  have 
lived  there  four  years." 

"  But  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  your  family  ?" 

"  My  family  don't  amount  to  much,  you  know.  There  is 
only  Mary  and  the  two  young  ones,  and  we  have  made  up 
our  minds  to  board  for  a  few  years.  If  business  goes  on  and 
prospers  as  it  has  done,  we  can  have  another  .house  as  soon 
as  we  choose.  Indeed,  we  might  have  it  now,  but  I  rather 
think  it  better  to  put  this  money  out  for  the  present.  I  have 
means  for  all  my  present  business,  and  there  is  no  use  in 
having  it  idle." 

"  And  has  your  purchaser  paid  you  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  here  is  a  certified  check  for  the  whole  sum.  I 
would  not  let  any  stand  on  mortgage,  as  I  thought  I  could 
do  better  with  it." 

"  And  what  do  you  propose  doing  with  it  ?" 

"  That's  just  what  I  called  to  see  you  about,  if  I  am  not 
troubling  you  too  much." 

"  Go  on,"  said  Mr.  Hardman,  a  gratified  smile  stealing 
across  his  fine,  noble  face. 

"  Well,  I  called  to  ask  if  you  wouhl  not  advise  me  as  to 
the  best  manner  of  investing  it.  In  fact,  I  want  you  to 
invest  it  for  me.  I  am  a  good  enough  mechanic,  and  I  find 
I  can  make  some  money,  yes,  and  save  it  too  ;  but  I  am  too 
busy  with  my  work  to  know  much  about  money  matters, 
except  as  far  as  my  own  business  goes.  Now,  will  you 


46      THKEE  PEK  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

oblige  Mary  and  me  by  putting  this  out  in  such  a  manner  as 
you  think  best  ?  Put  it  out  just  as  you  would  for  yourself. 
Will  you  do  that  much  for  me  ?" 

"  To  be  sure  I  will,  if  you  are  willing  to  trust  to  my  judg 
ment.  But  why  don't  you  leave  some  of  it  on  bond  and 
mortgage  ?" 

"  Oh,  thero  is  too  much  trouble  about  titles,  and  I  may 
get  into  a  lawsuit  before  I  know  it.  No,  put  it  where  I  can 
realize  at  any  tune,  if  I  see  fit ;"  and  he  handed  Mr.  Hard- 
man  the  certified  check. 

Mr.  Hardman  wrote  a  receipt  for  the  money,  with  a  guar 
antee  of  seven  per  cent,  interest  until  invested,  which  Benson 
put  in  his  pocket  and  took  his  leave,  with  a  smile  of  intense 
satisfaction. 

Mr.  Hardman  followed  him  with  his  eyes  until  the  office- 
door  closed  upon  him,  then  scanning  the  check  for  an  instant- 
he  put  it  in  his  bank-book  for  deposit,  and  resumed  his 
writing. 

On  the  evening  of  that  day,  or  rather  late  in  the  after 
noon,  as  Mr.  Benson  was  passing  homewards,  he  saw  on  the 
corner  of  Ann  and  William  Streets,  a  woman  picking  over  a 
barrel  of  coal  ashes,  and  putting  the  few  pieces  of  coal 
which  the  carelesness  of  some  servant  had  left,  in  a  small 
covered  basket. 

As  he  passed  her,  she  raised  her  head,  and  he  saw  that 
she  was  an  American  woman,  perhaps  thirty  years  of  age. 
In  that  he  could  not  be  mistaken.  His  attention  was  then 
more  particularly  attracted  to  her,  and  drawing  forth  a  half- 


THE    CARPENTER'S    WIFE.  4/T 

dollar,  lie  approached  her  closer.  Her  dress,  though  of  the 
most  common  kind,  was  studiously  clean,  and  her  whole 
appearance  was  very  far  above  the  occupation  in  which  she 
was  found. 

Seeing  that  she  was  observed,  she  drew  her  hood  quickly 
down,  not  so  quickly  but  that  Mr.  Benson  could  perceive 
a  deep  flush  come  to  her  face,  and  hastily  stepping  up,  he 
said,  at  the  same  time  tendering  the  coin  he  held  in  his 
hand, 

"  You  don't  look  as  if  you  ought  to  be  doing  that.  Take 
this." 

The  tears  gathered  in  her  eyes  as  she  received  the  coin  ; 
stealthily  glancing  around,  to  see  if  the  movement  was 
observed  by  any  one,  and  drawing  her  hood  still  closer  down, 
so  as  almost  to  hide  her  face  entirely,  she  said, 

"  I  thank  you  very  kindly,  sir,"  and  made  a  movement  as 
if  to  go  on. 

"  Come,  come,  madam,  poverty  is  no  crime.  Don't  be 
ashamed  of  it.  It  is  hard  to  bear,  I  know." 

"  You  know  !  God  bless  you  then,  you  can  feel  for  me, 
for  I  am  poor  enough,  Heaven  knows." 

She  said  this  so  earnestly,  raising  her  face  to  Mr.  Ben 
son's  with  such  a  look  of  deep  sorrow  and  suffering,  he  felt 
his  eyes  grow  moist ;  and  as  the  woman,  in  raising  her  head 
to  address  him,  afforded  an  opportunity  of  seeing  her  fea 
tures,  he  observed  that  she  was  pale,  and  her  face  was 
pinched  up,  as  if  by  want  and  suffering,  though  she  had  evi 
dently  been  almost  beautiful. 


48      THREE  PER  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

"  Where  do  you  live  ?  Have  you  any  family  ?  How  came 
yon  to  be  picking  coal  in  the  street  ?  You  must  be  badly  off 
indted.  You  have  a  home  ?" 

"  I  am  doing  this  to  keep  my  children  from  freezing." 

"  Good  Heavens,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Benson,  "  children,  and 
freezing  !  "  Where  do  you  live  ?  I  will  go  home  with  you. 
Come,  show  me  the  way." 

"  As  you  say,  sir,  I  feel  that  my  poverty  is  no  crime,  and 
for  my  children's  sake  I  will  have  no  false  pride.  You  shall 
go  JIOTW,  if  you  please,  with  me,"  and  she  uttered  that  word 
with  such  a  melancholy  expression,  Mr.  Benson  was  fairly 
startled. 

They  walked  on  in  silence  for  a  few  moments,  and  at 
length  he  said, 

"  Have  you  a  husband  living  ?  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon  ; 
of  course  you  have  not,  or  you  would  not  be  suffering  so. 
Are  you  a  native  of  this  country  ?" 

"  Ojf  this  city,  sir.  I  have  a  husband — God  help  him,  for 
I  am  afraid  man  cannot — I  fear  he  is  gone  past  all  hope." 

"  Why  ;  is  he  sick  ?" 

"  Worse  than  sick,  sir.  But  you  can  see  for  yourself, 
here  we  are  ;"  and  she  stopped  in  front  of  a  large  four  story 
tenement  house  in  Cherry  street. 

Mr.  Benson  looked  at  the  house  with  something  of  sur 
prise,  for  with  all  his  experience  he  had  never  yet  entered 
one  of  these  vile  blots  on  the  fair  fame  of  our  city. 

Passing  through  the  dark  and  narrow  entry  into  the  yard, 
which  was  filled  with  ashes  and  filth  of  all  kinds,  she 


THE    CAKPENTEB'S    WIFE.  49 

descended  into  a  back  basement,  followed  by  her  wondering 
companion.  As  he  descended  the  steps,  slippery  with  dirt, 
and  entered  the  foul  den,  for  it  could  be  called  nothing  else, 
he  wondered  if  it  was  possible  for  human  beings  to  live  in 
such  a  place.  It  was  so  dark  at  first  he  could  not  distin 
guish  anything,  for  the  apartment  was  lighted  only  by  one 
small  window,  and  that  so  covered  with  dirt  and  ice,  it 
almost  excluded  every  ray  of  light.  Closing  his  eyes  for  a 
moment,  in  order  to  be  better  enabled  to  see,  as  he  opened 
them  he  perceived  a  mass  of  something  in  the  farther  cor 
ner. 

It  was  his  companion  kneeling  on  the  floor,  by  the  side  of 
a  pallet  of  straw,  over  which  was  spread  a  ragged  counter 
pane,  and  on  .it  were  lying  two  children,  the  objects  of  the 
fond  mother's  care. 

Save  this,  there  was  not  one  single  article  of  furniture  in 
the  room — not  the  semblance  of  a  chair  or  table  ;  nothing 
but  that  straw  and  those  rags — and  this  was  home ! 

Mr.  Benson  was  so  overpowered,  that  for  a  few  moments 
he  could  not  speak  ;  but  having  now  recovered  sight  enough 
to  distinguish  objects  in  the  dreary  apartment,  he  gazed 
around  in  stupefied  amazement.  But  save  those  rags  and 
the  kneeling  mother,  nothing  met  his  eyes. 

Turning  to  her,  he  was  about  to  speak,  when  a  motion 
among  the  rags,  preceded  by  a  faint  cry  of  a  child  in  dis 
tress,  stopped  him,  and  a  feeble  voice  said — 

"  Oh,  mother,  is  that  you  ?  I  am  so  cold  and  hungry. 
Little  Nelly  is  asleep.  Yet,  poor  thing,  she  cried  with  the 


50  THREE     PER     CENT.      A     MONTH. 

cold  after  you  were  gone  for  ever  so  long.  I  am  so  hungry 
and  so  cold." 

Mr.  Benson  could  not  stand  this,  for  the  thought  of  his 
darling  at  home,  his  petted,  idolized  Nelly — for  he  had  a 
Nelly  too — was  too  much  for  him  ;  and  leaning  his  head 
against  the  bare,  damp  wall,  he  gave  way  to  tears  which 
honored  manhood. 

"  In  the  name  of  Heaven,  madam,"  he  said,  when  he  found 
tone  to  speak,  "  why  are  you  here  ?  Do  you  really  live 
here  ?"  and  he  gazed  again  around  the  cheerless,  desolate 
apartment,  with  its  sunken  floor,  half  covered  with  ice — the 
empty  fire-place — everywhere  the  most  abject  poverty  met 
his  eye,  and  the  conviction'  of  the  suffering  endured  by  those 
who  called  it  home,  chilled  him  to  the  very  heart. 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice,  the  child  who  had  addressed  its 
mother,  rose  up  from  the  rags  which  served  the  double  pur 
pose  of  bed  and  covering,  and  staring  at  him  with  a  look 
half  of  terror,  half  of  hope,  threw  her  arms  around  her 
mother's  neck,  while  scalding  tears  were  rained  upon  her 
shrunken  shoulders. 

The  mother  arose,  the  child  still  clinging  to  her  neck,  and 
Mr.  Benson  saw  that  it  was  indeed  the  personification  of 
poverty  and  suffering.  Its  clothes,  if  indeed  the  rags  which 
covered  her  could  deserve  that  name,  scarce  sufficed  to  cover 
half  its  skinny  body.  The  lips  were  blue  with  cold,  and  her 
little  teeth  chattered,  as  the  cold,  damp  air  struck  to  her 
unprotected  person.  Her  eyes,  deep  set  in  their  bony 
sockets,  glared  with  the  fierceness  of  hunger  and  suffering, 


THE    CARPENTER'S    WIFE.  51 

and  her  little  thin,  pinched  face,  told  a  whole  volume  of 
hardships  and  privations. 

"  Here,  I  can't  stand  this  ;"  and  he  emptied  his  pockets 
of  all  the  change  he  had  ;  "  buy  some  food,  and  something 
to  keep  these  little  ones  from  starving  or  freezing.  Go 
quick.  Poor  things — poor  things — God  help  them  I  You 
say  you  have  a  husband  ?" 

"  Yes,  heaven  help  him,  sir  ;  but  he  is  a  poor,  miserable, 
debased  drunkard.  For  many  months  he  has  been  our 
curse,  but  he  is  my  husband,"  and  she  buried  her  face  and 
her  tears  on  the  shoulder  of  the  child  who  still  clung  to  her, 
as  if  assured  of  comfort  and  protection  in  her  mother's  arms. 

"  What  is  he  ?  Where  is  he  ?  Who  is  he  ?"  he  asked 
nervously. 

"  My  name  is  Scott,  sir  ;  my  husband  is  a  carpenter  by 
trade,  and  if  he  only  would  keep  sober,  he  is  a  good  work 
man.  But  you  see  what  a  curse  rum  has  brought  to  us." 

"  A  carpenter — so  am  I.  Where  is  he  ?  I  want  to  see 
him.  The  infamous  scoundrel,  to  see  his  wife  and  children 
in  this  condition,  when  he  can  earn  so  good  a  living  1 
Where  is  he,  I  say  ?"  he  asked,  almost  fiercely,  for  he  was 
completely  carried  away  by  his  feelings. 

"  I  am  sure  I  do  not  know.  Sometimes  we  do  not  see 
him  for  a  week  at  a  tune,  and  never  when  he  is  sober." 

"  Where  can  I  find  him  ?" 

"  Heaven  only  knows,  sir.  He  lives  everywhere  but  with 
us.  Perhaps  he  is  in  some  of  these  rum-shops  near  by 
Shall  I  go  for  him  F 


52     THKEE  PER  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

"  No  ;  go  buy  some  food  and  fuel.  I  can't  stay  any 
longer  now.  I  will  stop  to-morrow  morning  as  I  go  down 
town  ;  but  if  he  comes  in,  be  sure  to  keep  him.  I  will  be 
certain  to  see  you  in  the  morning.  God  bless  you,  good 
woman  ;  you  have  served  to  give  me  a  good  lesson  to-day, 
and  I  won't  forget  it  soon.  There,  never  mind  any  thanks," 
he  said,  seeing  that  the  mother  was  about  to  pour  out  the 
gratitude  which  was  overflowing  her  heart,  "  I  don't  want 
any  ;  get  something  for  yourself  and  the  children,  and  be 
sure  if  he  comes  in  to  keep  him.  I  will  be  here  in  the  morn 
ing,"  and  without  waiting  for  any  reply,  he  left  the  place. 

As  he  was  hurrying  homewards,  his  thoughts  divided 
between  his  Nelly  at  home  and  the  Nelly  he  had  just  left  ; 
he  jostled  a  gentleman  whom  he  was  passing,  and  who,  on 
on  his  turning  around,  he  recognized  at  once.  Jt  was  Mr. 
Arnold. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Arnold,  I  am  so  glad  to  meet  you,"  he  said, 
slackening  his  pace  to  suit  that  of  the  gentleman  addressed, 
and  not  very  much  to  his  satisfaction,  for  Mr.  Arnold  was 
dressed  in  the  top  of  the  fashion,  while  Benson  had  yet  his 
working  clothes  on. 

However,  remembering  that  Benson  was,  in  some  degree, 
a  protege  of  Mr.  Hardman,  he  forced  himself  into  some 
thing  like  cordiality,  and  returned  his  salutation  with  appa 
rent  warmth. 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,"  he  repeated.  "  You  are  just 
the  man  I  want — I  want  some  help,"  and  as  Mr.  Arnold 
turned  with  a  very  broad  stare  at  these  words,  Benson 


THE     CABPEN  TEE'S     WIFE.  53 

laughed  outright.  "  Not  for  myself,  I  promise  you — not  for 
me,"  and  he  laughed  again  at  the  mistake.  "  I  have  just 
left  a  scene  of  poverty,  desolation,  and  misery,  such  as  I 
never  witnessed.  I  declare  I  could  not  sleep  to-night  if  I 
did  not  think  I  could  do  something  for  the  poor  wretches  ;" 
and  without  waiting  for  any  questions  he  detailed  briefly, 
and  in  his  own  blunt,  straight-forward  manner,  the  meeting 
with  Mrs.  Scott — the  visit  to  her  home,  and  what  he  saw 
there 

Mr.  Arnold  listened  with  apparent  attention  and  interest, 
and  when  he  had  concluded,  said  in  reply  : 

"  Why,  to  tell  the  truth,  Mr.  Benson,  business  is  very  dull 
just  now,  and  we  are  overrun  at  the  house  and  store  with 
these  kind  of  things.  There  are  so  many  impostors,  you 
know."  \ 

"  Oh,  I  will  give  my  word  there  is  too  much  truth  here, 
Mr.  Arnold,"  he  said,  warmly.  "  Such  suffering  I  never  saw 
before,  and  never  want  to  witness  again.  Come,  I  must  have 
something — I  can't  let  you  off  entirely.  Only  go  with  me 
hi  the  morning  to  see  them." 

"Oh  no  ;  I  don't  care  for  that ;  I  will  take  your  word 
for  it.  I  will  give  something  if  you  insist  upon  it,  but  upon 
my  word  I  am  afraid  you  have  let  your  feelings  run  away 
with  your  judgment." 

"  Go  and  see  for  yourself,"  said  Mr.  Benson,  with  warm 
hearted  enthusiasm — "go  and  see  for  yourself,  and  yon 
won't  say  that." 

"No,  your  word  is  enough,"  and  Mr.  Arnold  handed  the 
munificent  donation  of  a  quarter  of  a  dollar. 


54:     THREE  PEE  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

Benson's  first  impulse  was  to  tender  it  again  to  the  donor, 
but  decency  forbade  that,  and  he  pocketed  the  coin,  but 
made  no  more  allusions  to  the  poor  suffering  family  ;  he 
could  not  to  such  a  man,  for  he  knew  that  he  was  a  pros 
perous  and  prospering  merchant,  but  he  felt  that  he  had 
very  little  heart,  and  from  that  hour  he  lost  all  respect  for 
him. 

They  parted  on  the  corner  of  Twenty-second  street  and 
Broadway,  for  Mr.  Arnold's  first-class  house  was  in  that 
street,  and  Benson  hastened  on  to  his  home,  anxious  to 
unburden  his  breast  to  one  who  he  knew  would  not  only 
sympathize  with,  but  gladly  co-operate  with  him  in  relieving 
the  terrible  destitution  he  had  just  witnessed. 


THE  REFORMED  HUSBAND.        55 


CHAPTER   V. 

THE    REFORMED   HUSBAND. 

As  Nelly  met  her  father  at  the  front  door,  for  she  was  on 
the  watch  for  him,  and  sprang  into  his  arms,  he  gave  her  a 
hug  which  almost  squeezed  the  breath  out  of  her  little  body, 
and  a  fervent  but  silent  prayer  arose  from  a  sincere  heart, 
that  his  N^y  might  never  be  so  unblessed  as  those  from 
whom  he  had  but  now  parted. 

And  Mary  Benson,  as  she  came  up  with  her  bright  smile  of 
welcome,  received  an  embrace  warmer  than  was  even  her  wont. 
At  the  tea-table  he  narrated  to  his  family  the  sufferings  he 
had  witnessed,  and  was  amply  repaid  for  the  cold  reception 
he  had  met  from  Mr.  Arnold,  in  the  tears  of  Mary  and 
Nelly,  while  even  Georgey  could  scarcely  restrain  his  tears, 
young  as  he  was. 

The  evening  was  spent  in  collecting  clothes,  and  shoes, 
and  stockings,  for  the  wretched  family  ;  a  respectable  bun- 
ile  being  gathered,  and  Mary  and  Nelly  each  added  some 
thing  more  than  a  mite  to  the  quarter  of  Mr.  Arnold. 

Charles  Benson  slept  soundly  and  sweetly  that  night. 


56  THREE     TEH     CENT.      A     M  O  IT  T  H . 

The  next  morning,  immediately  after  breakfast,  Benson 
started  off  with  his  bundle  under  his  arm,  and  eight  o'clock 
saw  him  in  Cherry  street. 

"  Here,  good  folks,"  he  said,  pushing  open  the  door  with 
out  knocking,  "  here  is  something  my  people  have  sent  to 
you,  and  here,  Mrs.  Scott,  is  a  trifle  I  have  collected,"  and 
he  handed  her  a  sum  sufficient  to  keep  off  cold  and  starva 
tion  for  many  weeks. 

The  poor  woman  could  not  utter  one  word  ;  her  heart 
was  too  full  for  thanks,  but  her  tears  spoke  eloquently,  as 
with  a  little  one  clinging  to  each  side  of  her  clothes,  she 
stood  before  him. 

"  Has  he  been  home  yet  ?"  he  asked. 

"  He  went  away  not  ten  minutes  ago.  I  dare  say  you 
will  find  him  in  the  grocery  next  door.  I  didbpot  dare  to 
tell  him  I  had  any  money,  or  he  would  have  taken  it  from 
me." 

"  Show  him  to  me  ;  I  want  to  look  at  him,"  and  without 
a  word  he  ascended  the  stairs,  followed  by  Mrs.  Scott,  who 
led  the  way  into  a  small  grocery  as  it  was  called,  groggery 
as  it  was,  adjoining  the  house  in  which  she,  with  some  hun 
dred  other  families  almost  as  poor  as  herself,  resided,  and 
called  it  home. 

"There  he  is,"  she  said,  pointing  to  a  man  about  the 
medium  size,  shabbily  dressed,  who  was  leaning  on  the 
counter,  pleading  with  all  the  earnestness  of  despair,  just 
for  one  glass. 

"  Not  a  drop  without  the  money,  Scott,"  was  the  surly 


THE  REFORMED  HUSBAND.        57 

answer  of  the  filthy,  coatless  vagabond,  who  called  himself 
proprietor  of  the  shop,  and  whose  face  showed  a  perfect 
acquaintance  with  the  articles  in  which  he  dealt — "  not  a 
drop  ;  you  owe  me  a  quarter  now,  and  I  won't  trust  you 
another  penny." 

"  Only  one  glass,  Mr.  Grimes,"  whined  the  wretched 
drunkard,  whose  frame  was  fairly  convulsed  for  the  want  of 
the  stimulus  on  which  he  had  so  long  fed.  "  I've  got  a  job 
down  on  the  wharf,  and  upon  my  word  I  will  pay  you 
to-night." 

"  You'll  be  too  drunk  long  before  night  to  think  of  any 
thing  or  anybody.  I  tell  you  I  won't  give  you  one  drop," 
and  as  he  spoke  thus  decidedly,  Scott  turned  around  in 
despair,  and  Mr.  Benson  caught  sight,  for  the  first  time,  of 
his  bloated,*haggard  face,  and  bloodshot  eyes. 

"  Come  here,  Scott,"  said  Mr.  Benson,  sternly,  and  the 
poor  fellow,  for  he  deserved  pity,  after  all,  reader,  obeyed 
like  a  whipped  spaniel,  though  he  knew  not  why.  The 
sound  of  his  name,  pronounced  so  authoritatively  by  a  stran 
ger,  perhaps,  startled  him. 

As  he  neared  Mr.  Benson,  the  latter  said,  in  a  tone  as 
stern  as  he  could  make  it,  "  Come  with  me,"  find  wondering 
why  he  obeyed  the  command,  Scott  followed  him  out  of  the 
store. 

"  Now  stand  there  till  I  come  out,"  he  said,  pointing  to 
the  stoop  of  the  house  where  Mrs.  Scott  resided,  and  agaiu 
he  was  obeyed,  while  Mrs.  Scott,  who  had  returned  to  her 
cellar,  was  awaiting  with  fear  and  trembling,  the  result  of 


58      THREE  PEE  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

the  interview  ;  for  as  soon  as  she  had  pointed  her  husband 
out  to  Mr.  Benson,  she  had  left  the  store. 

"  Mrs.  Scott,"  he  said,  abruptly,  "  he  is  a  desperate  case, 
but  by  God's  help  I  will  try  and  save  him.  I  am  going  to 
take  him  down  town  to-day  with  me,  and  I  will  keep  him  so 
busy,  he  shan't  have  time  to  think  of  drink.  You  have 
money  enough  now  to  do  as  I  wish.  Go  directly  and  find 
some  other  apartment.  Get  out  of  this  vile  neighborhood. 
Buy  such  things  as  are  actually  necessary.  Mind,  you  must 
do  it  at  once.  It  must  all  be  done  to-day  ;  and  when  you 
have  got  fixed,  come  down,"  and  drawing  forth  his  memo 
randum  book,  he  wrote  the  number  of  the  street  where  he 
was  working,  and  handing  it  to  her,  said  :  "  and  let  me 

know.     I  will  come  home  with  him.     There,  never  mind — 

i 

thank  me  some  other  time,"  and  he  hurried  off. 

Scott  was  standing  there  when  he  returned,  and  saying 
only  "  follow  me,"  he  started  for  the  lower  part  of  William 
street,  where  he  was  fitting  up  a  large  building  into  offices. 

"  Here,  William,"  he  said  to  the  foreman  in  charge, 
"keep  this  fellow  hard  at  work  all  day.  Don't  let  him  out 
of  your  sight  a  minute,  and  don't  give  him  a  cent." 

"  Why,  I  know  him  very  well,  Mr.  Benson.  You  have 
got  the  hardest  kind  of  a  customer  to  deal  with.  He  is  a 
first-rate  workman  if  he  would  only  keep  sober,  and  he  has 
got  such  a  nice  wife  and  two  sweet  children." 

"  I  know  it,  William.  I  met  them  yesterday  by  chance, 
and  for  their  sakes  I  am  going  to  try  and  save  him.  But, 
mind  what  I  tell  you — don't  let  him  off  a  minute.  Now  I 


- 


THE     REFORMED     HUSBAND.  .59 

think  of  it,  he  hasn't  had  a  mouthful  to-day.  Let  one  of  the 
boys  go  with  him  down  to  the  market,  and  give  him  some 
breakfast — mind,  don't  give  him  a  penny." 

"  All  right,  sir,"  said  William,  who,  knowing  Scott  well,  as 
he  had  worked  in  the  same  shop  with  him,  fully  entered  into  the 
wishes  of  his  employer  ;  and  one  of  the  younger  hands  was 
sent  with  Scott,  with  strict  instructions  to  give  him  a  hearty 
breakfast,  but  not  to  let  him  have  a  cent  of  money,  nor  a 
drop  of  liquor. 

Towards  the  hour  for  "  knocking  off,"  Mrs.  Scott  made 
her  appearance,  and  was  immediately  recognized  by  Wil 
liam,  who,  having  received  his  directions  from  Mr.  Benson, 
took  her  new  address,  and  bade  her  hurry  home  as  fast  as 
possible,  as  the  "  Boss  "  was  coming  up  with  Scott. 

At  the  close  of  the  working  hours,  Mr.  Benson,  who  had 
returned  and  ascertained  from  William,  Mrs.  Scott's  new 
residence,  called  him  to  his  side,  and  said,  in  kind  tones, 
"  Well,  Scott,  how  do  you  feel  now  ?" 

"  Oh,  better,  sir — much  better.  I  am  tired,  and  awfully 
hungry." 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  thirsty,"  he  said,  very  meaningly. 

"  Not  very,  sir,"  said  Scott,  hanging  down  his  head. 

"  Now,  Scott,  I  know  something  about  you  and  your 
family.  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself  to  act  so — a 
good  workman  as  you  are,  to  let  his  wife  and  children 
starve,  and  all  for  rum.  Now,  mark  me  well — I  will  give 
you  work  if  you  keep  sober,  but  the  very  first  time  you  get 
drunk,  as  sure  as  my  name  is  Benson,  you  shall  go  to  the 


60     THKEE  PER  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

Island  for  six  months,  and  I  will  see  that  your  family  don't 
suffer ." 

'  ]'ll  try,  sir,"  said  the  poor  wretch,  completely  humbled 
by  a  kind  word. 

"  No,  air  ;  say  you  won't.  You  can  do  anything,  if  you 
only  think  you  can.  Don't  say  try." 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you,  sir,  for  thinking  of  me  at  all." 

"  Why,  Scott,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  don't  think  anything  of 
you  now,  I  think  only  of  your  wife  and  children,  who  were 
actually  starving  while  you  might  have  a  good  home  for 
them.  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  think  you  are  a  man." 

"  I  know  it,  sir  ;  but,  oh,  it's  got  such  a  hold  upon  me." 

"  Yon  talk  like  a  fool.  Think  of  your  wife,  and  those 
dear  little  children,  actually  starving  and  freezing.  Why,  I 
saw  your  wife  out  hi  the  street  yesterday,  picking  coal  out 
of  a  barrel  of  ashes,  and  she  wife  of  a  mechanic,  and  a  good 
workman.  Shame  on  you  1  you  deserve  to  be " 

"  I  know  it,  sir.  I  know  I  deserve  anything.  Oh,  if  I 
only  could " 

"  I  tell  you,  you  shall — there's  no  if  about  it  You  must 
and  shall,  and  if  you  don't,  mark  my  words,  you  shall  spenG 
the  next  six  months  getting  out  stone.  That's  harder  work 
than  swinging  a  plane  or  an  adze  for  two  dollars  a  day." 

"  Yes  ;  but  no  body  will  give  me  work  now." 

"  Didn't  I  give  you  work,  and  didn't  I  tell  you  that  I  would 
give  you  work  as  long  as  you  are  sober.  What  more  do 
you  want  ?" 

•'  Nothing,  sir.     I  thank  you  very  much.     I'll  try  very 


THE     REFORMED     HUSBAND.  61 

hard,  sir,  and  I  will — good  night,  sir,"  and  he  was  about  to 
turn  down  Frankfort  towards  Cherry  street,  when  Mr.  Ben 
son  arrested  him,  saying, 

"  Not  that  way — come  with  me." 

"  If  you  please,  sir,  I'd  like  to  go  home  now." 

"  Home,  Scott ;  do  you  call  that  filthy  den  a  home  for  the 
wife  and  children  of  a  mechanic  like  you  ?  I  wonder  how 
you  can  dare  to  look  them  in  the  face.  Come  with  me,  you 
can  go  home  presently,"  and  he  led  him  on  until  they  reached 
Pearl  street,  turning  up  towards  Broadway. 

Scanning  the  number  of  the  houses  as  they  passed  along, 
Mr.  Benson  at  length  found  the  one  which  had  been  named 
by  Mrs.  Scott  to  his  foreman,  and  he  entered  the  front  door, 
followed  by  the.  wondering  and  scarcely  sobered  Scott. 

"  This  is  the  house,  I  think,"  and  without  a  word  he 
ascended  to  the  second  story. 

Mrs.  Scott  heard  his  footsteps  on  the  stairs,  for  gratitude 
had  instinctively  taught  her  who  was  coming,  and  she  was 
standing  in  the  door  of  the  back  room,  anxiously  looking  out 
into  the  darkness  below  ;  for  having  closed  the  front  door, 
the  only  light  shed  upon  the  stairs  came  from  the  open  door 
of  her  new  apartment,  for  she  had  already  faithfully  obeyed 
the  commands  of  her  benefactor. 

"  Here  we  are,"  said  Mr.  Benson,  not  noticing  Mrs.  Scott, 
but  passing  into  the  room,  and  turning  to  see  how  the  hus 
band  and  wife  would  meet.  "  Come  in,  Scott." 

With  wondering  looks  the  poor  inebriate  entered  ;  and  at 
eight  of  him  the  children  shrank  away,  as  if  dreading  his 


T  ii  R  i:  H    p  K  K    c  K  x  T  .    A    MONTH. 

very  presence.  For  an  instant  he  stood  lost  in  amazement 
There  was  his  wife,  sure  enough.  Those  were  the  voices  of 
his  children  which  he  had  heard,  but  this  was  not  his  home. 
Ee  turned  from  Mr.  Benson  to  his  wife — from  his  wife  to 
Mr.  Benson,  in  speechless  astonishment. 

At  length  humanity  regained  its  sway,  and  sinking  on  his 
knees,  he  buried  his  face  in  his  wife's  clothes,  and  clasping 
his  arms  around  her,  burst  into  tears. 

They  were  tears  wrung  from  the  heart  of  a  true  penitent, 
and  they  were  recorded  in  the  Angel's  book. 

The  children  crept  from  their  hiding-places,  and  gazed 
in  wonder  upon  this  unusual  scene.  Mrs.  Scott  had  no  power 
for  words,  but  as  hot  scalding  tears  rained  upon  the  head 
of  him  for  whom,  and  through  whom,  she  had  so  deeply  suf 
fered,  her  grateful  heart  poured  out  its  thanks  for  this  single 
moment  of  happiness,  the  first  she  had  tasted  in  many  a 
weary  month,  for  of  a  truth,  the  husband  who  had  beeu 
"  dead  to  her,  was  alive  again." 

Mr.  Benson  joined  involuntarily  in  his  share  of  the  tribute 
to  emotions  which  he  could  not  control,  and  for  a  few  mo 
ments  nothing  was  heard  in  that  room,  save  the  sobs  and 
tears  of  the  long  parted  husband  and  wife. 

At  length  Scott,  now  perfectly  sobered  by  emotions  to 
which  he  had  so  long  been  a  stranger,  arose  from  his  knees, 
and  placing  one  hand  on  his  wife's  shoulder,  and  raising  the 
other,  with  a  solemn  impressiveness  which  spoke  his  sin 
cerity,  said, 

"  As  the  Lord  is  my  judge,  and  as  I  hope  for  forgiveness, 


THE  REFORMED  HUSBAND.       63 

I  will  be  a  man  once  more.     Susan,  may  God  bless  you,  and 
give  me  strength  to  keep  my  word." 

The  man  spoke  out  there,  and  with  Susan  Scott,  Mr.  Ben 
son  believed  ;  but  he  only  said,  with  tearful  eyes,  as  he  took 
the  hand  of  the  reclaimed  inebriate — 

"  I  knew  if  you  only  said  you  would,  you  could.  But  I 
must  go  now.  Be  down  early  to-morrow,  Scott  ;  William 
will  set  you  at  work." 

"  Not  yet,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Scott,  approaching  him.  "Oh,  do 
let  me  thank  you." 

"  Thank  me  ?  What  for  ?" 

"  This  home — these  comforts — my  husband  restored." 

"  Your  husband  can  do  that  best,  by  proving  himself  wor« 
thy  of  you.  I  mean  he  shall  pay  for  everything." 

"  That  I  will,  and  work  my  hands  raw  to  do  it." 

"  I  don't  want  that,  Scott.  Pay  me  by  being  a  man. 
You  have  everything  now  to  encourage  you." 

"  May  Heaven  shower  choice  blessings  on  you.  Come  here, 
children,"  exclaimed  the  wife,  forgetting  all  her  past  sorrows 
in  her  present  happiness,  and  as  they  came  at  her  call,  she 
threw  herself  on  her  knees,  with  one  by  each  side,  and  rais 
ing  her  hands  and  eyes  to  Heaven,  poured  out  the  grateful 
emotions  of  her  heart,  in  an  invocation  for  blessings  on  the 
head  of  her  benefactor,  so  fervent,  so  eloquent,  so  earnest, 
he  eould  not  control  himself,  but  burst  into  tears,  and  abso 
lutely  tore  himself  away,  with  a  sensation  of  happiness  at 
his  heart,  the  like  of  which  even  he  had  never  before  expe 
rienoed. 


64:     THREE  PEE  CENT.   A  MONTH. 


CHAPTER    VI 

THE    FAST    MAN'S    HOLIDAYS. 

IT  was  the  week  before  the  holidays,  and  all  the  "world 
and  his  wife  "  were  thronging  Broadway,  hi  quest  of  presents 
for  loved  ones  at  home.  The  little  folks  were  fairly  wild 
with  delight,  as  they  opened  their  wondering  eyes  upon  the 
vast  store  of  toys  and  presents  of  every  conceivable  kind 
which  were  displayed  in  the  windows  of  so  many  stores  on 
that  great  thoroughfare. 

In  the  morning  (it  was  the  day  before  Christmas),  Robert 
Arnold  with  his  wife  were  out,  for  business  down  town  at 
that  season  justified  an  occasional  absence  from  the  store. 

They  found  too  much  to  look  at — much  to  admire — and 
of  course,  much  to  covet  for  the  wee  folks  at  home  ;  and 
before  he  was  well  aware  of  it,  some  fifty  dollars  had  slipped 
through  his  fingers  for  useless  toys,  which  would  not  last 
beyond  the  New  Year's  day. 

And  while  they  were  out,  it  was  necessary  to  make  some 
preparations  for  the  reception  of  New  Year's  calls,  and 
they  too  were  made  at  an  expense  it  is  almost  wrong  to 
mention.  Enough  was  contracted  for  to  have  kept  a  res 
pectable  family  in  marketing  for  a  month. 


THE     FAST     MAN'S     HOLIDAYS.  65 

"  Well,  Belle,  what  are  you  to  have  for  your  Christinas  ?" 

"  Oh,  that's  for  you  to  say,  Robert,"  was  the  ready  reply. 
"  You  know  what  I  have  so  long  coveted,  and  what  you  have 
so  often  promised  when  you  could  afford  it." 

"  Eeally,  I  forget.     What  do  >ou  mean,  Belle  ? 

"  Because  you  don't  want  to  remember,"  she  said,  playfully 
pinching  his  arm. 

"Upon  my  word  I  don't,  Belle.  You  have  everything 
now  that  heart  could  wish. 

"  Indeed,  I  have  not,  Robert ;  and  as  you  have  promised 
it,  and  I  know  you  can  afford  it,  I  woa't  be  put  off  any 
longer." 

"  Well,  out  with  it.     What  is  it  your  heart  is  set  upon  ?" 

"Didn't  you  promise  me  a  piano  as  soon  as  you  could 
afford  to  get  one,"  said  Belle,  looking  archly  in  his  face. 

"But,  Belle,  you  know  you  don't  play,  and  Ida  won't 
begin  these  three  years  yet.  Why,  she's  only  just  turned 
of  six." 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  but  Ida's  mother  can  learn,  and  Ida's  mother 
•wants  to  learn.  How  often  you  have  said  you  wished  I 
could  play,  to  amuse  you  of  an  evening  ;  now  I  want  to  learn 
for  your  sake." 

This  was  a  fib,  to  speak  in  the  most  delicate  manner,  for 
Belle  did  not  really  want  or  mean  to  learn ;  but  she  felt 
that  her  first  class  house,  in  its  first  class  neighborhood, 
was  not  completely  furnished  without  a  piano,  and  her  heart 
was  set  upon  it." 

Robert,  however,  took  her  as  she  spoke,  and  believing  her 
5 


66      THREE   PER   CENT.   A   MONTH. 

to  be  sincere,  was  flattered  by  her  evident  desire  to  please 
him.  "  You  won't  ask  for,  or  expect  anything  else  ?" 

"  Of  course  not,"  exclaimed  his  wife  joyfully,  as  she  felt 
that  the  piano  was  her  own  •;  for  to  tell  the  truth,  Belle  had 
changed  even  more  than  Robert  during  the  brief  season  of 
prosperity  which  had  followed  him,  and  was  much  more 
addicted  to  outward  show  for  fashion's  sake,  than  himself. 
In  the  fullness  of  his  heart,  he  had  from  time  to  time  told  her 
of  the  prosperous  business  he  was  doing,  and  when  she  learned 
that  he  was  making  over  seven  thousand  dollars  a  year,  it 
seemed  to  her  as  if  the  purse  of  Fortunatns  himself  had  been 
thrown  in  her  lap.  At  least  she  acted  so,  for  her  calls  for 
money  had  been  incessant,  and  they  were  never  refused. 
Her  dresses  rivalled  those  of  many  whose  incomes  were  five 
times  greater  than  her  own.  Her  jewelry  was  more  profuse 
and  dazzling,  and  her  ideas  of  her  own  importance  were 
magnified  more  than  fifty  fold  above  all  warrant. 

She  had  been  bred  respectably,  but  in  a  very  moderate 
position,  and  never  dreaming  of  anything  beyond  a  home 
and  some  one  to  support  her,  could  not  fully  realize  her  pre 
sent  position. 

True,  she  loved  her  husband ;  and  now  more  than  ever, 
because  he  was  in  a  situation  to  gratify  all  her  whims  and 
caprices  ;  and  they  had  no  limits,  nor  did  she  ever  give  her 
self  the  trouble  to  think  that  this  might  not  last  for  ever. 
She  was  on  the  high  road  to  wealth  and  fashion  now.  She 
was  moving  in  a  circle  towards  which  a  few  years  ago  she 
looked  with  longing,  admiring  eyes,  never  even  in  her  wildest 
dreams'  daring  then  to  think  of  entorins:  its  precincts 


THE     FAST     MAN'S     HOLIDAYS.  67 

But  she  was  there — young,  handsome,  gay  and  admired. 
The  height  on  which  she  stood  was  so  great,  it  made  her 
giddy  to  look  down,  and  she  would  not. 

Old  and  tried  friends,  who  had  known  and  loved  her  in 
earlier  days,  were  dropped  one  by  one,  or  driven  away  by 
her  neglect  to  invite  them  to  her  numerous  parties.  They 
were  not  of  her  set,  and  she  would  lose  caste  by  the  associa 
tion  ;  so  the  acquaintance  was  dropped. 

Robert  ventured  several  tunes  to  remonstrate  against  this 
course,  as  he  thought  it  looked  unkind  ;  but  he  was  the 
weaker  vessel,  and  invariably  yielded,  and  the  consequence 
was  that  he  received  his  full  share  of  condemnation  as  a 
purse-proud  upstart,  from  those  who  felt  that  he  was  of  a  truth 
verifying  the  old  adage,  "put  a  beggar  on  horseback,  &c." 
.  But  to  the  piano. 

Belle  saw  that  the  victory  was  her  own,  and  the  next 
thing  was  to  secure  one  in  keeping  with  their  house,  its 
neighborhood,  and  its  furniture,  and  with  her  position,  for 
she  prided  herself  amazingly  upon  that. 

Partly  by  coaxing,  partly  by  pouting,  and  partly  by 
insinuations,  she  secured  her  end,  and  before  they  reached 
home,  Mr.  Arnold  had  given  his  check  for  two  hundred  and 
seventy-five  dollars,  and  a  note,  at  four  months,  for  an  equal 
amount,  for  a  piano,  which  pleased  his  wife  exactly. 

They  did  not  purchase  any  more  presents  that  day,  for 
even  Robert  felt  that  he  had  acted  a  little  unwisely. 

He  was,  however,  very  prone  to  let  things  take  their 
course,  and  when  the  piano  came  home  late  in  the  afternoon, 


68      THREE  PEE  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

and  his  wife  went  into  ecstasies  over  it,  and  remarked 
that  "now  her  parlors  looked  something  like,"  he  felt 
that  he  had  done  a  good  deed,  in  affording  her  so  much 
pleasure. 

True,  it  would  not  be  of  any  use  for  months  to  come,  so 
far  as  his  personal  pleasure  was  concerned,  except  as  friends 
might  drop  in  whom  he  would  tax,  but  then  it  was  necessary 
to  complete  the  furniture  of  his  house,  and  it  was  there. 

Two  days  before  the  new  year,  the  bookkeeper  of  the 
concern  handed  him  the  balance  sheet  of  the  business,  toge 
ther  with  his  individual  account.  The  former  showed  his 
share  of  the  profits  to  be  eight  thousand  two  hundred  and 
seventy  dollars,  and  he  had  drawn  eight  thousand  one  hun 
dred  and  ten,  leaving  him  a  balance  of  one  hundred  and 
sixty  dollars.  He  felt  that  there  ought  to  be  some  mistake, 
but  he  was  very  sure  there  was  none.  He  could  not  realize 
hew  he  had  expended  so  much  money  in  so  short  a  tune,  but 
figures  do  not  lie,  and  they  stared  him  in  the  face.  Eight 
thousand  dollars  in  nine  months,  and  how  much  did  he  owe  ? 

Oh,  he  would  stop  this  at  once  ;  that  would  never  do, 
and  cramming  the  papers  into  his  pocket-book,  he  started 
for  home  in  a  frame  of  mind  not  very  enviable. 

At  the  tea-table,  he  threw  the  papers  before  his  wife,  who, 
glancing  over  them,  opened  her  large  black  eyes  very  wide, 
and  for  a  moment  seemed,  as  she  really  was,  exceedingly 
surprised. 

"  But,  Robert  dear,  you  really  seem  to  forget  how  many 
expenses  we  had  at  the  beginning  There  was  the  furniture 


THE     FAST     MAN'S     HOLIDAYS.  69 

— that  we've  got,  you  know,  and  we've  got  the  house,  and — 
and" — she  could  not  think  of  any  more  to  show  for  the 
eight  thousand  dollars  :  but  they  had  those,  and  there  was 
some  comfort  in  that. 

True,  he  owed  eight  thousand  on  the  house  ;  true,  he 
owed  yet  nearly  a  thousand  dollars  on  the  furniture,  half  the 
price  of  the  piano,  and  what  was  really  due  in  other  quarters 
he  did  not  know. 

Eobert,  however,  did  not  retire  that  night  until  he  ascer 
tained  his  exact  position,  and  he  found  that  in  addition  to 
the  eight  thousand  and  odd  dollars  drawn  from  the  concern, 
he  owed  nearly  three  thousand  dollars  more.  This  was 
almost  frightful,  and  for  a  time  he  sat  with  his  head  buried 
in  his  hands,  stunned,  confused,  and  bewildered. 

The  remonstrance  and  advice  of  Mr.  Hardman  came 
vividly  to  his  memory,  and  he  could  not  help  feeling  how 
truly  all  of  his  predictions  were  likely  to  turn  out. 

While  thus  engrossed,  Belle  entered  the  room,  and  seeing 
the  table  filled  with  papers,  at  once  conjectured  the  charac 
ter  of  his  occupation,  and  the  nature  of  his  thoughts. 

Stepping  softly  up  to  him — for  he  was  so  deeply  lost  in 
thought  he  had  not  heard  her  enter — she  stole  behind  him, 
and  clasping  her  hands  over  his  eyes,  bent  his  head  back 
wards,  and  imprinted  a  kiss  upon  his  lips. 

"  Is  that  you,  Belle  ?"  he  said,  in  a  sorrowful  voice. 

"  Why,  have  you  lost  all  your  friends  and  relatives, 
Bobby  ?"  she  said,  half  laughing.  "  You  look  as  if  you  were 
a  ruined  man,  and  had  lost  every  friend  you  had  in  the  world." 


70      THREE  PER  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

"  Not  so  bad  as  that,  Belle  ;  but  I  didn't  think  I  had 
gone  on  qnite  so  fast." 

"  So  fast  I  why,  dear,  what  do  you  mean  ?"  and  she  drew 
up  an  elegant  easy-chair  covered  with  crimson  figured 
velvet,  and  throwing  herself  in  it,  with  an  air  which  seemed 
to  say,  "  come  on,  I'm  ready  to  argue  with  you  ;"  she 
awaited  his  reply. 

"  I  mean  that  I  have  spent  all  I  have  earned,  and  a  little 
more." 

"  And  how  much  more  ?" 

"  As  much  as  used  to  keep  us  for  two  years  before  I  went 
into  business." 

"  And  how  much  have  you  spent  ?" 

"  Eight  thousand  dollars,  besides  what  I  owe." 

Now  Mrs.  Arnold  prided  herself  on  her  perfect  coolness 
and  self-possession.  True,  she  was  gay,  thoughtless,  and  full 
of  life,  but  she  never  suffered  herself  to  be  surprised,  and  she 
was  not  now.  Eight  thousand  dollars,  it  was  true,  was  a 
large  sum,  but  he  had  admitted  that  he  had  earned  it,  and 
that  was  something  she  did  not  know  before  ;  though,  as  has 
been  said,  she  knew  he  was  prosperous,  and  that  she  spent 
money  accordingly.  Her  plans  were  laid  on  the  instant. 

"  Well,  Robert,  and  what  do  you  mean  to  do  ?  What  do 
you  think  of  doing  ?" 

"  Don't  you  think  we  had  better  give  up  this  house  ?" 

"  And  what  then  ?" 

"  And  go  back  to  boarding." 

"  And  what  then  ?" 


THE     FAST     MAN'S     HOLIDAYS.  71 

"  Why,  it  certainly  won't  cost  so  much  to  hire  as  it  does 
now." 

"  And  what  then  ?"  each  time  repeated  with  an  imperturba 
ble  countenance,  her  eyes  steadily  fixed  on  his  face. 

"  Only  I  think—  » 

"  No,  you  don't  think  at  all,  Robert,"  she  said,  interrupt 
ing  him.  "  Here,  you  have  not  had  this  house  a  year.  You 
have  furnished  it  elegantly.  You  have  got  into  a  fine  neigh 
borhood.  You  are  making  new  acquaintances  every  day 
(and  Robert  groaned  as  she  spoke).  You  have  been 
admitted  into  the  best  society,  and  now  what  do  you  pro 
pose  ?" 

"  Yes,  but,  Belle,  I  can't  stand  it.  If  tunes  come  on  as 
hard  as  they  were  a  couple  of  years  ago  " 

"  Do  as  others  do." 

"  Yes,  but  I  haven't  anything  to  do  with." 

"  Now  answer  me  one  or  two  questions.  You  admit  you 
are  doing  a  good  business  ?" 

"  Certainly  ;  eight  thousand  a  year  apiece  is  what  I  call 
a  very  good  business." 

"  You  have  no  idea  it  will  grow  any  less,  have  you  ?" 

"  Not  in  the  least.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  growing  better 
every  season.  I  shouldn't  be  at  all  surprised,"  he  added, 
carried  away  by  his  enthusiasm,  "  if  I  made  ten  thousand 
the  next  year." 

"  You  are  in  good  credit  now  ?" 

"  Perfectly." 

"  You  are  known  as  doing  a  good  business  ?" 


72      THEEE  PEE  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

"  Certainly." 

"  And  now  see  what  you  propose.  You  want  to  give  up 
the  house,  sell  off  the  furniture,  and  go  to  boarding.  What 
do  you  suppose  would  be  the  consequence  1" 

II  Well  ?" 

"Why,  everybody  would  say  you  had  failed,  and  was 
obliged  to  economize,  and  who  do  you  suppose  would  trust 
you?" 

Robert  made  no  reply,  but  found  refuge  from  the  question 
by  burying  his  face  in  his  hands. 

"  Yes,  and  how  everybody  would  crow  over  you,  to  think 
that  you  cut  such  a  dash  for  a  few  months,  and  then  went 
to  pieces.  Why,  Robert,  you  couldn't  do  anything  in  the 
world  that  could  hurt  you  half  so  much.  Just  think,  it  would 
go  like  wildfire  that  you  had  failed,  for  nobody  would  believe 
you  acted  so  for  economy's  sake." 

II 1  don't  know  but  you  are  half  right,"  he  said,  languidly 
raising  his  head. 

"  Right  !  Do  you  think  I  don't  know  human  nature  ? 
No,  Robert ;  you  have  got  a  first-rate  start.  Keep  the 
reins  in  your  own  hands.  If  people  only  think  you  are  rich, 
it  is  just  as  good  as  if  you  were.  Take  my  advice.  Of 
course  you  won't  have  so  many  expenses  the  next  year,  now 
everything  is  settled.  Why,  Robert,  to  hear  you  talk,  one 
would  think  you  hadn't  a  dollar  in  the  world,  nor  a  friend, 
uor  anything  to  do,  and  here  you  are  making  eight  thousand 
dollars  a  year,  as  you  admit." 

"  Yes,  and  spending  eleven,  Belle." 


THE     FAST     MAN'S     HOLIDAYS.  73 

"  But  you  must  not  spend  eleven.  Of  course  you  can't 
live  as  you  do  now  without  some  expense  ;  but,  as  I  said, 
only  make  folks  think  you  are  rich,  and  it's  just  as  good  as 
the  money.  Cut  off  some  of  the  expenses  ;  but  give  up  the 
house  !  why,  Robert,  you  might  as  well  shut  up  your 
store,  and  give  out  that  you  were  bankrupt  at  once. 
There's  James,  I'm  sure  you  don't  need  him  now  that  you 
don't  keep  a  horse.  Discharge  him,  there's  two  hundred 
dollars  a  year  saved  right  off." 

"  So  I  will,"  replied  her  husband,  springing  up,  and  per 
fectly  convinced  by  the  reasoning  of  his  wife. 

Reader,  there  was  a  great  deal  of  very  bad  advice,  but  a 
great  deal  of  truth  in  what  she  said. 

The  result  of  the  conference  was,  that  Mr.  Arnold  resolved 
upon  economizing  by  discharging  a  man  servant  for  whom 
he  never  had  any  earthly  use,  and  who  was  paid  at  the  rate 
of  twenty  dollars  a  month,  to  black  his  boots  and  wait  upon 
the  table. 

That  was  so  long  a  step  towards  a  reform  in  his  expendi 
tures,  he  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  take  any  more  at  pre 
sent  ;  and  having  reached  this  conclusion,  the  conference  was 
adjourned 


THREE  PER  CENT.   A.  MONTH. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE     FAST    MAN    AT    SARATOGA. 

Six  months  pass  away  very  rapidly  to  those  engaged  in 
the  cares  and  toils  and  troubles  of  business. 

Let  us  suppose  they  have  flown,  and  that  July  is  again 
around,  with  its  broiling  sun  and  heated  air,  rendering  a 
summer  residence  intolerable  to  those  not  led  away  by 
fashion  or  folly. 

It  was  towards  the  close  of  the  afternoon,  on  a  very  sultry 
day  in  that  month.  Everything  human  seemed  to  be  afflicted 
with  utter  listlessness. 

The  place — Saratoga,  where  activity  of  any  kind  save  that 
prescribed  by  fashion  would  have  been  voted  vulgar.  The 
idea  of  a  promenade  under  the  lofty  trees  which  skirt  the 
noble  avenues  in  that  far-famed  centre  of  folly,  sin,  extrava 
gance  and  fashion,  would  be  pronounced  intolerable.  The 
only  exercise  permitted  was  that  enjoyed  in  the  crowded 
parlors  of  the  hotels  each  evening,  when  with  the  thermometer 
at  90°,  the  votaries  of  fashion  "  threaded  the  mazy  dance," 
(that  is  the  poetical  expression)  ;  and  retired  to  their  couches 


THE     FAST     MAN     AT     SARATOGA.          75 

wearied,  exhausted,  and  mentally  wishing  that  such  a  place 
as  Saratoga  had  never  been  discovered.  But  to  our  story. 

The  time  was  about  five  in  the  afternoon,  of  a  day  which 
had  been  so  sultry  as  to  confine  nearly  all  the  inmates  of  all 
the  hotels  within  the  precincts  of  their  oivn  apartments, 
where  they  could  lounge  in  elegant  dishabille,  purchased 
purposely  for  use  at  Saratoga,  but  seen  by  nobody  save  the 
proprietors.  A  refreshing  breeze  had  suddenly  sprung  up. 
and  aroused  the  sleepers,  and  the  languid,  listless,  weary 
devotees,  who  longed  for  anything  that  would  bring  a 
change. 

A  crowd  had  gathered  on  the  piazza  of  that  temple  of 
fashion,  the  United  States.  Equipages  of  all  kinds,  from 
the  simple  buggy  with  its  one  fast  horse,  to  the  gorgeous 
turnout,  driven  by  servants  in  livery,  awaited  the  beck  of 
their  owners.  All  was  life,  health,  and  animation. 

"  Oh,  what  a  beautiful  turnout !"  was  uttered  by  a  dozen 
beautiful  mouths,  as  a  span  of  blood  bays,  attached  to  a 
light  but  really  beautiful  carriage,  was  driven  up  by  a  ser 
vant  in  plain  blue  livery.  "  What  splendid  horses — what  a 
beautiful  -wagon  I  Did  you  ever  see  such  light,  delicate  har 
ness  ?  I  declare  that  is  superb  1"  and  a  dozen  pairs  of  bright 
eyes  were  on  the  look-out  for  the  owner  of  this  beautiful  esta 
blishment. 

He  soon  made  his  appearance,  dressed,  not  fantastically, 
but  in  the  height  of  fashion  (the  reader  will  please  to 
reconcile  those  terms),  and  on  his  arm  was  leaning  a  lady — 
young,  beautiful,  and  superbly  dressed — rather  too  superbly 


76  THREE     PEE     CENT.     A     MONTH. 

for  a  drive  on  the  dusty  roads  which  skirt  that  famed 
city. 

Behind  them  came  two  children,  about  four  and  six  years 
of  age,  led  by  a  nurse,  whose  dress  was  as  scrupulously  neat 
as  that  of  the  lady  was  scrupulously  fashionable.  The  chil 
dren  were  dressed  for  exhibition,  and  as  everybody  looked 
at  them,  their  parents'  vanity  was  gratified. 

This  party  got  into  the  beautiful  estabh'shment,  the  object 
of  so  much  admiration  ;  and  as  the  servant  stood  at  the 
heads  of  the  prancing  horses,  who  were  pawing  and  champ 
ing  their  bits  with  impatience,  throwing  snow-flakes  over 
their  glossy  coats,  everybody  admitted  that  this  was  the 
turnout  of  the  place.  Everybody  said  so,  and  so  audibly  that 
the  proprietor  could  not  fail  to  hear  it ;  and  as  the  spirited 
animals,  freed  from  the  grasp  of  the  groom,  plunged  and 
snorted  in  their  impatience  to  be  off,  he  turned  to  the 
assembled  crowd  with  a  self-satisfied  air,  which  said  in  just 
so  many  words,  "  Beat  that  if  you  can." 

Reader,  Robert  Arnold  was  the  proprietor  of  that  esta 
blishment — the  envy  of  the  men,  the  admiration  of  the 
ladies.  He  had  economized  by  discharging  his  man  servant, 
who  had  been  paid  two  hundred  and  forty  dollars  yearly, 
and  had  made  up  for  the  sacrifice  by  the  present  exhibition. 

"  Who  is  he  ?  What  is  he  ?  Where  did  he  come  from  ?" 
and  a  dozen  similar  questions  were  poured  out  as  the  splen 
did  horses  dashed  off  at  a  pace  which  betokened  danger  to 
any  but  one  well  skilled  in  their  management. 

Mr.  Arnold's  education,  however,  in  that  regard,   had 


THE     FAST     MAN     AT     SARATOGA.  77 

been  studiously  cared  for,  since  his  first  accession  to  the 
nonor  and  dignity  of  driving  "his  own  team,  and  he  handled 
the  reins  with  a  skill  and  dexterity  which  elicited  the 
highest  encomium  from  all  beholders. 

No,  not  from  all ;  there  were  two  persons  who  saw  and 
recognized  him,  as  he  dashed  through  the  broad  avenues,  and 
they  did  not  award  to  him  the  admiration  which  the  more 
thoughtless  and  more  fashionable  had  so  readily  yielded.  The 
one  was  Mr.  Henderson,  the  special  partner  of  the  firm  in  which 
Eobert  Arnold  was  a  partner ;  the  other  was  Mr.  Hardman,  who 
Had  come  to  Saratoga^  not  for  mere  pleasure,  but  on  account 
of  his  wife's  health,  for  the  renovation  of  which  a  change  of  air 
had  been  recommended.  They  were  there  boarding  modestly, 
quietly,  and  in  a  retired  manner  ;  and  although  Mr.  Hard 
man  sought  no  society,  nor  courted  notoriety,  it  was  soon 
known  throughout  the  place  that  he  was  among  the  visitors, 
and  he  was  waited  on  by  the  first  and  best,  for  his  private 
worth  and  public  services  had  justly  entitled  him  to  every 
honor  which  could  be  paid  to  him. 

Mr.  Henderson  shook  his  head  gravely  as  Arnold  dashed 
past  the  hotel  where  he  was  standing,  and  inwardly  wondered 
what  might  possibly  become  of  the  twenty-five  thousand  dol 
lars  which  he  had  placed  as  special  partner  in  the  firm  of 
Arnold,  Platt,  &  Co. 

Mr.  Hardman  looked  grave,  sad  and  sorrowful,  for  he 
was  really  attached  to  Robert  Arnold,  and  was  deeply 
grieved  to  see  him  so  completely  carried  away  in  the  giddy 
vortex  of  folly,  fashion  and  extravagance. 


78      THKEE  PEE  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

Turning  to  his  wife,  who  was  leaning  on  his  arm,  and  who, 
with  him,  had  noticed  Arnold  as  he  drove  past  in  all  the 
glory  of  his  truly  elegant  turnout,  he  met  her  look  and  was 
about  to  make  some  remark. 

Compressing  his  lips,  however,  with  a  peculiar  expression, 
which  spoke  more  eloquently  than  words,  and  hastily  thrust 
ing  one  hand  into  his  pocket,  he  turned  away. 

There  were,  as  has  been  said,  many  to  ask,  "  Who  is  he  ? 
What  is  he  ?  and  where  did  he  come  from  ?"  and  there  were 
some  who,  taking  all  for  gold  that  glittered,  had  the  ready 
answer,  "  Robert  Arnold — Arnold,  Flatt,  &  Co. — doing  a 
splendid  business,  and  making  a  fortune  every  year." 

So  Mrs.  Arnold  had  gained  one  point,  for  she  had  made 
some  at  least  believe  that  th«y  were  rich,  but  it  cost  a  great 
deal  to  induce  that  belief. 

After  this  exhibition  of  style  and  magnificence,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Arnold  were  sought  for  by  all,  or  nearly  all  who  came 
there,  as  they  did  merely  for  show,  and  to  spend  the  most 
money  with  the  least  possible  pleasure. 

Every  day  Mr.  Arnold  had  his  private  parties  to  the 
lakes,  his  dinner  parties,  his  supper  parties,  his  card  parties, 
and  his  horse  parties. 

Every  day  his  wife  and  children  were  dresse*d  three  times, 
and  it  was  the  common  remark,  that  not  one  of  them  had 
ever  worn  the  same  dress  the  second  time. 

Of  course  he  must  be  rich  to  indulge  in  such  extrava 
gances  as  he  did,  and  as  he  permitted  to  his  wife.  One 
thing  was  certain,  he  had  plenty  of  money,  he  spent  it  freely. 


THE     FAST     MAN     AT     SARATOGA.  79 

and  as  his  reward,  he  was  rated  a  fine  dashing  fellow,  and 
his  wife's  ambition  was  abundantly  gratified,  and  her  vanity 
sufficiently  nattered  by  the  attentions  paid  to  her  by  those 
who  lived  on  her  husband's  money. 

Throughout  the  entire  season  it  was  one  continued  whirl 
»f  gaiety  and  dissipation,  the  crowning  feature  of  which  was 
the  annual  ball,  of  which  Mr.  Arnold  was  one  of  the  mana 
gers,  and  Mrs.  Arnold  so  great  an  ornament,  she  had  the 
honor  of  being  designated  in  the  official  reports  which  flooded 
the  country  through  the  medium  of  the  press,  as  the  "  Ele 
gant,  accomplished  and  fascinating  Mrs.  Arn — Id,  with  her 
fairy-like  children." 

This  amply  paid  them  both — Mrs.  Arnold  for  all  the 
vexations,  privations,  and  annoyances  to  which  she  had  been 
compelled  to  submit  while  worshipping  at  the  shrine  of 
fashion  ;  and  Mr.  Arnold,  for  the  sum  of  two  thousand  three 
hundred  and  seventeen  dollars,  the  precise  amount  of  his 
expenditures  during  his  stay  at  Saratoga. 

During  the  absence  of  Mr.  Arnold  at  the  Springs,  Mr. 
Henderson  had  returned  to  the  city,  and  had  paid  several 
visits  to  the  store,  where  he  passed  much  time  in  conversa 
tion  with  the  other  partners,  and  in  an  examination  of  the 
books. 

What  result  was  reached  will  be  made  known  in  due 
course  of  time. 

Mr.  Arnold  did  not  think  it  worth  while,  so  early  in  the 
season,  to  dispose  of  his  establishment  at  present,  but  he 
added  to  it  by  the  purchase  of  a  neat  carriage  which  only 


80      THREE  PER  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

cost  about  six  hundred  dollars,  in  which  his  wife  could  pay 
her  calls,  and  the  children  could  and  did  ride  out  almost 
daily,  for  their  health.  He  was  on  the  top  of  the  tide  now, 
but  whither  was  he  floating  ? 


THE    CARPENTER'S    WEDDING-DAT.     81 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

THE  CARPENTER'S  WEDDING  DAY. 

ON  the  day  of  the  grand  ball  at  Saratoga,  a  little  episode 
occurred  in  this  city,  in  one  of  the  families  who  have  been 
introduced  to  the  reader,  which  may  not  be  uninteresting. 

Henry  Scott,  whose  nature,  character,  and  habits,  had 
been  so  entirely  and  providentially  changed,  and  who  was 
now  able  to  stand  erect  in  the  dignity  of  manhood,  and  the 
honor  of  industry,  had  been  made  foreman  over  a  very 
heavy  job  on  which  Mr.  Benson  was  engaged  in  the  lower 
part  of  Broadway. 

On  the  morning  of  that  day,  while  going  through  the 
building  on  which  they  were  working  in  company  with  Mr. 
Benson,  as  the  latter  was  about  to  leave,  after  giving  some 
directions,  Scott  said  to  him  quite  abruptly,  "  Mr.  Benson,  I 
have  two  favors  to  ask  of  you." 

"  Well,  Scott,  out  with  them." 

"  I  want  to  go  away  at  three  o'clock,  and  not  return  for 
the  day  ;  and  I  wan't  you  to  come  to  my  house  this  evening 

early — say,  by  six  o'clock." 
6 


82     THKEE  PEE  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

"Those  are  not  so  great  favors  hut  I  can  afford  to  grant 
them.  Are  they  all  well  at  home  ?" 

"You  shall  see,  sir,  for  yourself.  You  don't  know,  I 
believe,  where  I  live  now." 

"  In  the  same  place,  I  suppose." 

"  Not  quite,  sir  ;"  and  tearing  a  leaf  from  his  memoran 
dum  book,  he  put  down  his  new  address  and  handed  it  to 
Mr.  Benson,  then  turned  away  to  commence  his  work  ;  but 
if  any  one  could  have  seen  his  countenance,  they  might  have 
observed  a  tear  gathering  in  his  eyes,  and  a  quiver  about 

the  muscles  of  his  mouth. 

****** 

What  a  neat  little  room,  and  how  cheerful  and  comforta 
ble  everything  looks.  True,  the  carpet  is  of  very  coarse 
and  very  cheap  ingrain  ;  true,  the  chairs  are  very  common, 
with  wooden  bottoms  ;  true,  the  table  is  of  simple  pine,  but 
it  is  covered  with  a  cloth  as  white  as  snow  ;  and  the  tea 
cups  and  saucers,  though  not  of  Dresden  china,  are  just  as 
good,  and  just  as  dear  to  the  eyes  that  are  looking  upon 
them. 

A  neat,  happy-looking  woman  is  seated  in  the  centre  of 
the  room,  busily  plying  her  needle,  ever  and  anon  pausing 
to  check  the  rude  boisterous  movements  of  two  children, 
who,  with  their  pet  kitten,  which  they  had  rescued  in  the 
streets  a  few  days  previously  from  some  cruel  boys,  were 
enjoying  themselves  to  their  hearts'  content.  True,  they 
were  very  noisy,  but  they  were  very  happy,  and  the  mother, 
even  as  she  checked  them,  smiled  upon  them  as  she  paused 
for  an  instant  to  notice  their  very  happy  looks. 


THE     CAKPENTERS     WEDDING-DAY.       &3 

The  tea-table  was  set — not  as  many  of  the  readers  may 
have  been  accustomed  to  see  it — but  it  would  be  difficult  to 
find  anything  wearing  a  more  cheerful  aspect. 

"  Come,  children,  you  must  not  make  so  much  noise.  It 
is  almost  half-past  five,  and  father  will  be  home  directly,  and 
you  know  he  won't  have  such  a  racket." 

At  the  word  "  father,"  the  kitten  was  dropped,  play  was 
forgotten,  and  in  a  moment  two  little  noses  were  flattened 
against  the  window  panes,  the  eyes  that  belonged  to  them 
being  entirely  engrossed  in  watching  for  his  coming. 

The  female  sitting  there  so  industriously  plying  her  needle 
was  Susan  Scott,  the  happy  wife  of  the  sober,  steady,  and 
reclaimed  man,  who  was  seen  a  few  months  since,  in  such  a 
state  of  utter  and  almost  hopeless  degradation.  Those  were 
her  children,  too  ;  and  if  the  reader  will  go  back,  he  can 
easily  draw  in  his  own  mind  the  contrast  between  the  past 
and  present. 

Then  they  were  existing — not  living — in  a  vile,  filthy, 
unwholesome  den,  not  fit  for  brutes  ;  then  they  were  forced 
to  depend  upon  the  charity  of  such  as  could  be  induced  to 
believe  that  they  were  really  naked  and  starving  ;  then  the 
wife  dreaded  her  husband's  coming  as  the  sure  fore-runner 
of  some  brutality  to  her  or  the  children.  Then,  at  the 
sound  of  father's  voice — nay,  at  the  very  mention  of  his 
name — they  fled  affrighted,  and  secreted  themselves  in  the 
darkest  corner  of  their  dark  and  filthy  abode. 

And  now  the  wife  watches  eagerly  the  small  clock,  which, 
with  its  harsh,  regular  tick,  tick,  warns  her  that  the  hour  is 


84-  THKEE     FEB.    CENT.      A     MONTH. 

near  when  he  who  was  and  ever  will  be  first  in  her  heart 
and  love,  ought  to  be  near.  She  listens  for  every  noise  that 
sounds  like  the  opening  of  the  front  door,  for  it  is  almost 
time  he  was  home,  and  with  hand,  lips,  and  heart,  she  is 
ready  to  greet  him  after  his  day  of  toil. 

Now  see  the  little  noses  flattened  against  the  window,  the 
eyes  glancing  in  every  direction,  and  each  one  anxious  to  be 
the  first  to  hail  his  advent. 

Sure  he  must  be  coming  ;  see  them  spring  from  their 
posts  at  the  window ;  see  them  struggle  to  reach  the  door 
first,  and  get  the  first  kiss  ;  see  them  push  each  other  away 
in  loving  and  affectionate  rivalry,  to  be  first  clasped  in  their 
father's  arms. 

Nelly  has  the  post  of  honor  ;  she  saw  fatner  first  ;  she 
saw  him  as  soon  as  he  turned  the  corner,  and  with  her 
young  fresh  heart  stimulating  every  moment,  she  nad  first 
reached  the  door. 

The  front  door  was  opened  ;  there  were  three  hearts 
there  which  beat  quicker  at  the  sound  of  the  steps  which 
ascended  the  stairs.  Three  pairs  of  longing  eyes  were  fas 
tened  on  the  door,  and  before  Mrs.  Scott  could  drop  her 
work,  and  rise  to  greet  her  heart's  lord,  he  had  a  child  in 
either  arm — his  neck  was  clasped  by  chubby  arms,  and 
his  head  turned  from  one  side  to  the  other  to  meet  their 
ready  kisses. 

Dropping  them  gently  he  unclasped  their  arms,  and  with 
a  bright  smile  and  open  arms,  his  wife  advanced  to  meet 
Mm. 

* 


THE    CARPENTER'S    WEDDING-DAT.     85 

Velvet  carpets  and  Dresden  china  do  not  see  such  scenes 
every  day. 

"  Susy  dear,"  said  the  husband,  for  it  was  indeed  the  hus 
band  of  the  happy  wife — the  father  of  the  lovely  and  loving 
children,  "  set  another  plate.  I  have  asked  a  friend  to  tea 
to-night,  and  I  expect  him  here  very  shortly." 

"  A  friend,  Henry  ?  You  ought  not  to  have  done  that. 
How  can  we  receive  any  one  ?" 

"  Never  mind,  Susy,  he  is  only  a  carpenter,  the  same  as  I 
am,  but  he  is  a  friend.  He  won't  look  for  much  in  my 
house,  and  he  won't  be  disappointed.  Just  set  another 
plate,  and  I'll  engage  he  won't  ask  any  questions,  or  feel  at 
all  disappointed  because  he  may  not  get  so  good  a  supper 
as  he  gets  at  home." 

Of  course  Susy  did  as  she  was  requested,  for  hadn't  she 
the  kindest  and  steadiest  and  best  of  husbands — and  hadn't 
he  been  restored  to  her  and  her  children  by  God's  providence 
— and  what  right  had  she,  happy  as  she  was,  to  ask  any 
questions  ?  And  so  the  plate  was  set. 

"  I  suppose  you  won't  tell  me  who  is  coming,  Henry,"  she 
said,  as  he  sat  anxiously  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  expected 
friend,  with  a  child  on  either  knee. 

"  You'll  know  him,  I  think,  when  you  see  him,"  was  all  his 
reply,  as  he  tossed  the  delighted  children  up  and  down 
on  his  knees. 

v  Yes,  up  stairs  here,"  he  suddenly  said,  or  rather  shouted, 
springing  up  and  dropping  the  astonished  children,  for  his 
ear,  quickened  by  gratitude,  had  caught  the  sound  of  a 


86     THKEE  PEE  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

voice  in  the  lower  hall,  which  he  could  never  forget.  "  Up 
stairs,"  he  repeated,  springing  to  the  door,  and  throwing  it 
wide  open  ;  "  here,  up  here — come  up — here  we  are,"  and 
before  his  astonished  wife  could  give  even  a  thought,  for  she 
had  heard  no  voice,  or  before  the  children  could  recover 
from  their  surprise  at  finding  themselves  so  suddenly  seated 
on  the  floor  instead  of  their  father's  knees,  he  had  rushed 
into  the  hall,  and  was  leaning  over  the  banisters,  awaiting 
the  ascent  of  his  expected  friend. 

"  Come  in,  come  in,  we're  all  waiting  for  you,"  and  as 
Mrs.  Scott  caught  sight  of  Mr.  Benson's  form  as  he  entered 
the  door,  her  strength  seemed  to  fail  her,  and  without  the 
power  to  utter  one  word,  she  sank  back  in  the  chair  from 
which  she  had  arisen,  giving  vent  to  her  feelings  in  a  flood  of 
tears. 

At  sight  of  the  stranger,  for  they  had  lost  all  memory  of 
him,  the  children  scampered  into  the  small  bed-room,  and 
peeped  cautiously  through  the  cracks  of  the  door. 

Pen  must  fail,  reader,  in  any  attempt  to  do  justice  to  this 
scene  in  that  humble  room. 

As  Mr.  Benson  entered,  Scott  had  stretched  out  his 
hand  as  if  to  receive  the  grasp  of  friendship,  but  his 
feelings  overpowered  him,  and  leaning  his  head  against  the 
wall,  he  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears — tears  which  did  honor 
to  his  head  and  heart.  His  heart  was  too  full  for  words, 
for  he  was  in  the  presence  of  his  only  earthly  friend  and 
benefactor. 

Susan  knew  him  well  indeed,  but  what  could  she  say  ? 


THE    CARPENTER'S    WEDDING-DAT.     87 

Her  present  comforts — her  happiness — her  all  were  due  to 
him  who  stood  there,  amazed  and  wondering  at  the  strange 
scene  presented. 

A  glance  told  him  the  whole  story,  and  tears  started  to 
his  own  eyes,  as  he  caught  the  full  meaning  of  the  scene 
before  him.  But  what  could  he  say  ? 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Benson,"  said  Scott,  first  recover 
ing  his  voice — "  I  beg  your  pardon  for  asking  you  here  to-day, 
but  I  could  not  resist.  It  is  the  anniversary  of  my  marriage 
day,  sir,  and  I  thought  that  I  could  do  nothing  on  earth 
which  could  make  Susan  so  happy  as  to  bring  her  to  sight 
of  you  at  such  a  time.  We  owe  everything  in  the  world  to 
you,  and  I  chose  this  day  that  we  might  thank  you." 

Susan  essayed  to  speak,  but  she  could  only  weep  and 
ehake  her  head.  Words  were  not  needed,  for  her  heart  was 
too  full  of  happiness  for  words. 

"  It  ain't  much,  Mr.  Benson,"  continued  Scott,  who  saw 
that  Ms  noble-hearted  benefactor  was  completely  overpow 
ered,  "  but  it  comes  from  the  heart  what  I  want  to  give. 
You've  got  a  little  Nelly  at  home  ;  I  know  you  have,  and 
thank  God  we've  got  one  too,  and  thank  God  I  am  alive  to 
feel  it ;  but  I  want  you  to  take  this  to  her,"  and  turning 
away  to  wipe  off  the  tears,  and  check  the  sobs  which  pre 
vented  his  further  utterance,  he  held  out  to  Mr.  Benson  a 
small  plain  gold  ring. 

"  It  ain't  much  ;  it  ain't  anything,  Mr.  Benson,  when  1 
tli  ink  of  what  you've  done  for  me  and  mine,  but  I  know  you 
will  take  the  will  for  the  deed.  It  comes  from  all  of  ns  ;  we 


88     THEEE  PEE  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

all  love  you,  we  honor  you,  and  so  long  as  God  spares  us, 
will  pray  for  you." 

"  Scott,"  said  Mr.  Benson,  his  eyes  streaming  with  tears, 
"  you  have  made  a  fool  of  me." 

"  And  you  have  made  a  man  of  me." 

"  And  a  happy  wife  and  mother  of  me,"  said  Mrs.  Scott, 
now  just  recovering  her  voice  ;  and  seizing  his  unresisting 
hand,  she  pressed  it  to  her  heart  and  lips  alternately,  but 
she  could  say  no  more. 

"  .And  I  have  something  for  you  too,  Susy,"  he  said,  dash 
ing  away  the  tears  which  filled  his  eyes.  '  It  didn't  cost 
anything,  but  you  won't  value  it  the  less  on  that  account  I 
know,"  and  going  into  the  entry  he  returned  in  an  instant, 
bearing  in  his  hands  a  small  certificate,  framed  very  plainly, 
and  held  it  up  towards  his  wife. 

Wiping  away  the  tears  which  clouded  her  vision,  she 
glanced  hastily  at  it,  then  with  an  hysterical  cry  of  joy, 
threw  herself  into  his  arms  sobbing  as  if  her  heart  would 
break. 

It  was  a  Temperance  pledge. 

"There,  Susy,"  he  said,  "you  didn't  need  that,  but  I 
know  I  couldn't  give  you  anything  to  make  you  half  so 
happy  as  that  would." 

"  Indeed  and  indeed  you  couldn't,  Henry,"  she  said,  with 
out  raising  her  head  from  his  shoulder,  "  Oh,  how  I  do 
thank  you  !" 

"  Don't  thank  me,  Sasy  ;  I  don't  desire  it.  Thank  him," 
and  he  pointed  to  Mr.  Benson,  who  in  these  few  moments 


THE    CARPENTER'S    WEDDING-DAT.     89 

had  enjoyed  an  amount  of  happiness  not  often  vouchsafed  to 
common  mortals,  and  very  seldom  indeed  to  a  mere  car 
penter. 

"  That's  the  man — that's  the  one  ;  thank  him  ;  he's  done 
it  all.  He's  made  a  man  of  me,  and  a  wife  of  you,  and  that, 
I'm  sure,  you  wasn't  before.  Oh,  Mr.  Benson,"  he  added, 
turning  to  his  employer,  "if  I  knew  how  to  thank  you  I 
would.  If  you  knew  how  my  heart  wants  to  thank  you." 

"  And  mine,"  said  his  wife,  approaching  him,  and  again 
taking  his  hand  which  she  had  dropped. 

"  Look  here,  Scott,"  said  Mr.  Benson,  vainly  endeavoring 
to  appear  calm  and  look  cross,  "  this  is  all  very  wrong.  I 
didn't  think  you  wanted  me  to  come  here  for  such  a  pur 
pose." 

"  I  know  it^-I  know  it,  or  you  never  would  have  come. 
I  didn't  dare  to  tell  you  why  I  wanted  you  here  to-night ; 
but  we've  been  married  this  day  eight  years,  and,  save  the 
day  that  gave  me  Susy  for  a  wife,  I've  never  seen  its  equal. 
Please  don't  find  fault  with  me." 

"  I  don't — God  knows  I  don't,"  said  Mr.  Benson,  warmly. 
"  And  from  my  heart  I  am  glad  I  am  here.  I  know,  Scott, 
you  will  prosper  now  ;  you  can't  help  it.  You  feel  right, 
and  you  can't  help  acting  right  when  you  feel  so.  But 
come,  I'm  hungry — I  want  some  tea,"  and  without  any  ado, 
he  seated  himself  unconsciously  in  the  very  chair  selected  for 
their  visitor  by  Scott  and  his  wife. 

There  is  no  use  in  attempting  to  say  anything  about  that 
"tea."  The  reader  is  only  asked  to  judge  who  was  the 


00     THREE  PEK  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

happiest  on  that  day — Mr.  Arnold  at  the  grand  fancy  ball, 
or  the  humble  parties  just  introduced  seated  at  that  plain 
deal  table,  and  drinking  their  tea  from  delf-china,  in  a  room, 
the  whole  furniture  of  which  did  not  cost  so  much,  by  many 
hundred  dollars,  as  did  the  dress  which  Mrs.  Arnold  wore 
on  that  occasion,  and  which  won  for  her  public  notoriety 
as  "  the  beautiful  and  fascinating  Mrs.  Arn — Id." 


A     FASHIONABLE     WIFE'S     ADVICE.        91 


CHAPTER    IX. 

A    FASHIONABLE    WIFE'S    ADVICE. 

THE  occurrences  of  the  next  few  months  may  be  briefly 
summed  up. 

Mr.  Arnold,  deceived  by  the  fawning  and  flattery  of  the 
sycophants  who  praised  and  toadied  him  for  the  sake  of  his 
money,  was  weak  enough  to  believe  that  by  his  unbounded 
extravagance  and  most  lavish  wastefulness,  he  was  winning 
friends.  And  so  he  was,  those  summer  friends  who  bask  only 
in  the  sunshine  of  prosperity  ;  and  he  did  not  pause  to 
consider  that  he  might  be  drawing  upon  himself  the  remarks 
and  censure  of  the  thinking,  reflecting  part  of  the  community, 
who  took  the  trouble  to  notice  him  or  his  conduct  at  all. 

As  for  Mrs.  Arnold,  it  really  seemed  as  if  her  head  was 
completely  turned.  Her  vanity  led  her  to  take  for  sober 
earnest  the  thousand  flatteries  poured  into  her  willing  ears  ; 
and  she  too  had  her  sycophants,  who  knew  that  the  sure 
road  to  her  heart  was  to  be  won  by  the  plentiful  praise  of  her 
self  and  her  appearance.  She  could  not  bear  the  idea  of  being 
outshone  or  outdone  by  any  one,  and  it  was  enough  for  her 


92     THEEE  PER  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

to  know  that  Mrs.  A.,  or  B.,  or  C.,  had  something  which  she 
had  not.  It  was  forthwith  procured,  with  or  without  the 
money,  for  of  late,  as  her  calls  for  money  grew  too  frequent 
to  be  always  responded  to,  her  husband  had  been  coaxed 
into  permitting  her  to  order  what  she  chose,  and  have  the 
bills  sent  home. 

What  she  chose  was  ordered  and  was  sent  home,  and  the 
bills  she  threw  carelessly  into  a  drawer,  intending  at  some 
convenient  time  to  call  Robert's  attention  to  them. 

But  what  with  the  parties  given  and  accepted,  the  calls, 
the  shopping,  and  the  incessant  whirl  in  which  she  lived, 
they  seldom  saw  each  other,  and  the  bills  remained  unno 
ticed. 

The  week  before  the  holidays  had  again  arrived,  and  the 
settlement  was  to  be  made  with  the  concern.  Mr.  Arnold 
grew  nervous  and  fidgety  about  it.  He  knew  that  he  had 
drawn  his  full  share  of  all  possible  profits,  allowing  that  all 
the  debts  due  to  them  were  good  ;  but  if  any  failures  of 
consequence  had  occurred  among  their  debtors,  he  might  be 
largely  in  advance. 

Mr.  Henderson,  the  special  partner,  was  present  at  this 
time,  and  treated  Arnold  with  such  marked  coldness,  he 
could  not  but  feel  that  a  storm  was  brewing,  and  the  very 
apprehension  of  impending  evil  was  annoying  to  him. 

Nor  was  his  temper  unproved  on  finding  his  wife  still 
engaged  in  her  rounds  of  gay  and  extravagant  dissipation. 
He  had  quite  forgotten  that  he  had  not  communicated  his 
fears  to  her  ;  indeed  how  could  he,  when  they  so  seldom 


A     FASHIONABLE     W  I  F  E  '  S     ADVICE.        93 

met  ?  and  if  perchance  lie  thought  of  them  in  her  presence, 
his  natural  easy  good  humor  led  him  to  avoid  everything 
which  could  detract  from  her  pleasures. 

But  still  it  soured  him  to  feel  that  she  did  not  notice  his 
altered  manner,  while  possibly  if  she  had,  he  would  have 
turned  it  off,  and  attributed  it  to  some  other  than  the  real 
cause. 

But  the  cloud  was  hanging  over  him,  and  break  he  felt 
instinctively  it  must,  and  it  did. 

The  settlement  of  the  accounts  showed  that  he  had  over- 

• 

drawn  nearly  a  thousand  dollars  of  what  would  have  been 
his  actual  share  of  the  profits,  if  all  their  debtors  should  pay 
promptly  ;  but  there  were  many  thousand  dollars  of  notes 
wliich  had  been  extended,  and  many  on  which  partial  pay 
ments  had  been  made,  so  that  the  entire  capital  of  the  con 
cern  would  be  no  more  than  sufficient  to  meet  their  pending 
obligations  for  the  coming  month,  and  unless  money  came  in 
from  some  source,  they  would  be  compelled  to  resort  to 
loans  to  preserve  their  credit.  When  this  was  made  known, 
Arnold's  heart  sank  within  him,  and  a  consultation  with  his 
partners  did  not  tend  much  to  relieve  him. 

Each  of  them  had  to  their  credit  in  the  concern,  about 
ten  thousand  dollars,  while  Arnold  had  withdrawn  every 
dollar  which  he  had  earned,  under  the  plea  of  needing  it 
for  extraordinary  expenses,  and  had  nothing  to  contribute 
to  the  aid  of  the  firm  in  the  present  emergency.  Under 
these  circumstances,  and  after  many  long  and  angry  discus 
sions,  it  was  decided  that  he  should  withdraw,  while  the  other 


94:      THREE  PEE  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

parties  would  carry  on  the  business  and  assume  all  the 
liabilities. 

Of  course  this  was  gall  and  wormwood  to  Mr.  Arnold, 
but  it  remained  for  Mr.  Henderson  to  put  on  the  finishing 
touch  by  the  declaration,  that  if  he  had  known  at  first 
of  Arnold's  1#stes  and  extravagant  habits,  he  would  never 
have  risked  one  dollar  in  any  firm  with  which  he  was  con 
nected. 

This  was  the  first  real  check  he  had  received,  and  it 
caused  him  to  think  very  deeply  ;  but  it  was  only  for  a  short 
tune.  It  was  " nothing  venture  nothing  have"  with  him, 
and  before  the  ink  announcing  the  dissolution  of  the  partner 
ship  was  fairly  dry,  he  had  hired  a  store,  and  made  arrange 
ments  to  commence  business  on  his  own  account. 

He  argued  himself  into  the  conviction  that  he  ought  to 
have  done  this  at  the  outset,  for  then  the  profits  (and  he  felt 
that  he  had  contributed  much  the  largest  share)  would  not 
have  been  divided  into  so  many  parts. 

And  Belle — she  rejoiced  at  it.  She  never  did  like  his 
partners — plain,  plodding  fellows,  who  could  not  talk  or 
think  of  anything  but  business.  They  were  not  fit  to  have 
money,  for  they  did  not  know  how  to  enjoy  it.  "  And  now, 
Robert,"  she  said,  in  continuation  of  her  homily,  "  you  will 
see  the  good  sense  of  the  advice  I  gave  you.  Suppose  you 
had  given  up  the  house,  and  gone  back  to  boarding." 

"  I  should  have  been  worth  ten  or  fifteen  thousand 
dollars,"  was  his  reply. 

"  Fudge  I    You  would  have  lost  every  cent  of  it  some- 


A     FASHIONABLE     WIFE'S     ADVICE.       95 

how.  Isn't  this  your  house,  and  don't  everybody  know  it, 
and  don't  everybody  believe  you  to  be  rich  ?  What's  the 
use  of  the  name  unless  you  use  it  ?  You'll  find  your  reputa 
tion  just  as  good  as  Mr.  Henderson's  few  thousands,  now 
mark  me.  Don't  give  up  ;  keep  up  appearances,  and  don't 
let  anybody  know  your  business." 

"  But,  Belle,  how  can  I  keep  up  appearances  ?" 

"  How  can  you,  stupid  ?"  and  she  patted  his  cheek  play 
fully.  "  Now,  how  much  do  you  suppose  you  brought  to 
that  firm  in  the  way  of  business  ?" 

"  Perhaps  nearly  one  half.  I  had  a  very  large  run  of 
buyers." 

"  Well,  and  if  you  brought  one  half  there,  can't  you  take 
one  half  to  yourself  ?  I  guess  they'll  be  glad  enough  to 
have  you  before  the  year  is  up.  Mark  me,  if  they  don't  tell 
you  how  sorry  they  are.  It's  all  the  work  of  that  old  Hen 
derson." 

Arnold  tacitly  acquiesced  in  this  by  his  silence,  though  he 
knew  it  was  false,  as  it  was  old  Mr.  Henderson  who  had 
given  them  their  first  start ;  for  the  very  fact  that  a  man  of 
his  cautious,  prudent  character,  and  well-known  means  had 
become  a  special  partner  in  a  firm,  gave  to  it  at  once  credit 
and  standing.  He  was  very  fearful  that  he  might  miss 
"  old  Mr.  Henderson,"  but  he  must  do  or  die. 

"Well,  thank  Heaven  I  don't  owe  anything  of  conse 
quence,  and  my  credit  is  good  yet.  I'll  go  in  on  a  large 
scale,  I  promise  you,  Belle,  and  unless  I  am  much  mistaken, 
those  fellows  will  rue  the  day  they  ever  served  me  so.  But, 
Belle,  you  must  give  up  that  carriage." 


96      THREE  PEE  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

"  What,  give  it  up  now,  at  the  very  time  it  is  most 
wanted  I  Why,  Robert,  you  are  perfectly  crazy,  it  seems 
to  me.  What  would  people  say,  the  very  week  after  your 
firm  was  dissolved,  if  you  did  such  a  foolish  thing  ?  Of 
course,  that  you  had  failed,  and  where  would  your  credit  be 
then  ?  No,  no  ;  use  your  credit  now  while  you've  got  it 
Only  get  a  fair  start  again,  and  see  if  you  don't  thank  me 
for  my  advice.  You  had  better  make  some  sacrifice  of  feel 
ing  now,  and  do  even  what  you  can't  afford  to  for  a  while, 
rather  than  have  people  even  think  you  can't  afford  it." 

These  and  similar  arguments  did  Mrs.  Arnold  use,  and  she 
ended  by  convincing  her  husband  that  he  had  been  badly 
abused  by  his  partners,  and  that  his  only  course,  if  he  would 
save  himself  from  annihilation,  would  be  to  keep  up  his 
present  appearances  ;  and  so  he  decided  to  do,  though  not 
without  many  inward  misgivings  as  to  the  consequences. 

Since  his  entrance  into  the  world  of  folly  and  fashion,  and 
since  he  had  commenced  such  a  career  of  recklessness,  Arnold 
had  not  visited  Mr.  Hardmau  so  frequently  ;  not  that  he  had 
lost  any  of  the  respect  or  esteem  he  had  ever  held  for  him, 
for  no  one  could  know  him  and  withhold  either  ;  but  a  cer 
tain  inward  consciousness  that  he  was  doing  that  which  his 
friend  would  condemn,  had  kept  him  away. 

He  knew  that  Mr.  Hardman  was  a  sincere  friend,  and 
that  he  was  deeply  interested  in  his  welfare,  but  while  his 
career  was  so  prosperous,  he  did  not  feel  that  he  needed  any 
aid  or  advice,  least  of  all,  such  as  he  knew  he  would  receive 
from  that  quarter. 

On  the  evening  on  which  he  had  the  conversation  with 


A    FASHIONABLE    W  I  F  E  '  8    ADVICE.        97 

Belle,  a  portion  of  which  has  just  been  detailed,  he  deter 
mined  to  call  around  and  advise  with  him  as  to  his  future, 
quite  forgetting  that  he  had  forfeited  all  claims  to  sympathy 
or  advice  by  the  little  heed  he  had  paid  to  him  theretofore. 
However,  he  resolved  to  see  his  friend,  and  lay  his  present 
case  before  him. 

For  his  own  part,  if  left  to  his  unbassed  judgment,  and  his 
honest  convictions  of  right,  he  would  have  stopped  at  once, 
and  not  gone  on  so  madly  and  blindly  as —  but  we  will  not 
anticipate. 

"  Well,  Robert,  you  are  quite  a  stranger,"  said  Mr. 
Hardman,  without  rising,  and  pushing  a  chair  towards 
Arnold  as  he  entered  the  library  ;  "  you  were  not  used  to 
stay  away  so  long.  What  has  kept  you  ?" 

"  Oh,"  said  Robert,  seating  himself,  a  faint  flush  crossing 
his  face 'at  the  mild  but  merited  rebuke,  "  I  have  been  very 
busy  indeed." 

"  Let  me  see,  the  last  time  I  saw  you  was  at  Saratoga, 
though  you  didn't  see  me  there.  I  mean  last  summer." 

"  Were  you  at  Saratoga  last  summer  ?" 

"  Oh  yes.  I  was  there  nearly  a  month  on  account  of 
Mrs.  Hardman's  health  ;  but  we  didn't  happen  to  meet.  I 
saw  you,  though,  every  day." 

Robert  had  hoped  that  his  friend  had  not  heard  of  his 
i'olly  and  extravagance  there,  and  when  it  was  thus  brought 
home  that  he  had  been  an  eye-witness  to  the  whole  of  it,  and 
had,  no  doubt,  heard  much  more  than  he  had  seen,  he  was 
pained  and  mortified. 


98      THBEE  PEE   CENT.   A.  MCNTH. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  trying  to  appear  very  calm,  "Belle 
wasn't  very  well,  and  I  took  her  there  for  a  season  while 
business  was  dull.  It  didn't  cost  me  any  more  there  than  it 
would  have  done  here.  You  see,  I  shut  up  the  house  while 
I  was  away,  and  saved  all  the  expense  of  housekeeping." 

Mr.  Hardman  thought  something  about  the  "  spigot  and 
bung  hole,"  but  he  only  said,  "  You  enjoyed  yourself,  I 
hope." 

"  Oh  yes,  of  course.  But,  Mr.  Hardman,  I  want  you  to 
advise  me  a  little  now." 

"  Why,  that's  what  yon  wanted  two  years  ago,  Robert, 
but  it  didn't  seem  to  go  down  very  well  then." 

"  Oh,  come,  don't  find  fault  with  me  now.  I  did  what  I 
thought  was  for  the  best  then,  and  I  am  not  so  much  to 
blame  after  all." 

"  Of  course  not,"  replied  his  friend,  a  quiet  smile  stealing 
over  his  fine  face.  "  But  what  is  the  trouble  now  ?  Is  not 
your  house  large  enough  for  you  ?  Perhaps  it  isn't  warm 
enough,"  and  a  very  wicked  expression  took  place  of  the 
smile." 

"  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  too  hot  for  me  much  longer,"  said 
Robert,  with  something  of  bitterness  in  his  tone.  "  There's 
no  use  in  denying  it ;  I  ought  to  have  done  as  you  said  in 
the  first  place." 

"If  I  had  not  thought  so,  I  certainly  would  not  have 
advised  you  as  I  did.  But  what  is  the  matter  now  ?" 

"  You  know  we  have  dissolved." 

"Yes.     I  saw  it  in  the  papers  a  day  or  two  ago.     Of 


A    FASHIONABLE    W  I  F  E  '  S     ADVICE.        99 

course  you  ought  to  have  a  pretty  sum  of  your  own 
now  !" 

"Yes,  I  ought  indeed,  but — " 

"  You  haven't  ?  I  thought  as  much  when  I  saw  you  in 
Saratoga,  for  I  know  it  costs  something  to  live  there  as 
you  did." 

"  No,  I  have  not  one  dollar  saved.  Mr.  Henderson  insisted 
on  a  dissolution,  and  I  have  taken  another  store." 

"  But  how  are  you  going  to  carry  on  business  without  any 
capital  ?" 

"  Why,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  that's  what  I  want  to  see 
you  about.  I  know  that  I  can  go  now  and  get  what  goods 
I  want,  on  credit,  and  I  believe  I  can  draw  a  large  share  of 
our  old  customers,  but  do  you  think  it  would  be  safe  ?" 

"  How  about  the  three  thousand  dollars  due  on  your  house 
this  year  ?  Surely  you  have  saved  enough  for  that  ?" 

"Mr.  Hardman,  I  have  not  saved  one  dollar.  I  had 
overdrawn  the  concern  nearly  a  thousand  dollars,  but  for 
tunately,  they  threw  that  in  when  we  separated." 

"  And  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?" 

"  That's  what  I  want  you  to  advise  me." 

"  Do  you  owe  anything  ?" 

"Nothing  of  any  consequence.  There  may  be  a  few 
house  bills,  and  perhaps  Belle  has  one  or  two  small  accounts. 
There's  nothing,  however  to  speak  of." 

"  You  are  a  good  salesman  ?" 

"  I  have  no  doubt  I  can  sell  as  many  goods  as  the  whole 
of  the  new  concern  put  together." 


100     THREE  PEE  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

"  Have  you  taken  any  steps  at  all  ?" 

"  Oh  yes,  I  have  hired  a  store  in  Liberty  street." 

"  You  have  been  quick,"  said  Mr.  Hardman,  moving 
uneasily  in  his  chair,  and  thrusting  both  hands  in  his 
pockets,  a  sure  sign  that  something  was  wrong  with  him. 
"  What  then  do  you  want  my  advice  about,  if  you  have 
hired  a  store,  and  have  determined  to  go  on  for  yourself  ?" 

"No,  not  exactly  that.  I  have  not  determined,"  said 
Robert,  hastily,  anxious  to  efface  the  impression  which  he 
saw  his  words  had  made  ;  "  I  have  taken  it,  but  I  have  not 
signed  any  papers." 

"  That  was  not  exactly  honorable,  then,  if  you  did  not 
mean  to  " — and  he  moved  very  restlessly  in  his  chair. 

"  But  I  did  mean  to,"  interrupted  Robert,  again  noticing 
that  this  was  condemned — "  I  did  mean  to.  I  only  wanted 
your  advice  as  to  how  I  should  go  on." 

For  a  full  minute  Mr.  Hardman  made  no  reply.  His 
clear  blue  eye  was  fastened  on  Arnold  with  an  icy  cold 
expression  which  few  could  withstand  under  any  circum 
stances,  and  no  one  who  had  any  evil  purpose  at  his 
heart. 

Robert  read  the  glance,  he  did  not  quail  beneath  it,  for 
he  was  not  dishonorable,  but  he  felt  that  his  course  was 
meeting  its  just  rebuke  at  the  hands  of  his  friend. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  say,"  replied  Mr.  Hardman,  after 
this  long  pause,  rising  and  moving  his  chair  perhaps  a  foot 
further  off ;  then  reseating  himself — "  I  don't  know  how  to 
advise  you." 


A    FASHIONABLE    WIFE'S     ADVICE.       101 

"  Oh  yes,  you  do.  There  is  no  one  more  competent. 
Now  tell  me  what  you  think  I  ought  to  do.  I  will  do  just 
as  you  advise." 

"  So  you  promised  before,  but  you  changed  your  mind. 
But  tell  me  exactly  how  you  stand." 

"  My  case  is  simply  this.  The  old  concern  is  dissolved. 
I  have  nothing  to  do  unless  I  go  in  business  on  my  own 
account,  and  I  must  do  something." 

"  You  have  no  capital  ?" 

"  Not  a  hundred  dollars." 

"  You  don't  owe  much  ?" 

"  No.  As  I  said,  some  few  house  bills,  and  perhaps  one 
or  two  accounts  of  Belle's." 

"  Well,  I  will  tell  you  what  I  should  do  if  I  were  in  your 
place.  You  have  a  carriage  and  horses  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Sell  them.  Sell  your  house  and  furniture  ;  go  and  find 
a  decent  boarding-house,  and  get  a  situation  as  salesman  as 
soon  as  you  can." 

To  tell  the  sober  truth,  Robert  Arnold  had  rather  thought 
(the  wish  was  father  to  the  thought)  that  when  Mr.  Hard- 
man  was  made  acquainted  with  his  true  position  and  circum 
stances,  as  a  friend,  he  would  have  come  forward,  and 
offered  to  assist  in  starting  him  again,  and  therefore  this 
advice  came  on  him  with  stunning  effect. 

Sell  the  house — break  up  housekeeping —  why  that  would 
bring  about  the  very  crisis  which  he  dreaded. 


102    THREE  PER  CENT.   A.  MONTH. 

"  But  what  would  people  say  ?" 

"What  would  people  say  if  they  knew  what  you  have  told 
me?" 

Eobert  mentally  acquiesced  in  the  truth  of  that  remark, 
but  he  reph'ed,  "Yes,  but  there  is  no  need  of  their  knowing 
it." 

"  And  how  long  do  you  suppose  you  can  keep  it  away 
from  them  ?" 

"  If  I  have  any  kind  of  luck,  they  never  will  know  it. 
Only  let  me  have  a  fair  start." 

"  And  suppose  you  don't  have  any  kind  of  luck,  as  you 
term  it  ?" 

"  I  won't  be  any  worse  off  then  than  I  am  now." 

"  Then  you  are  only  postponing  that  which  must  surely 
come." 

Mr.  Arnold  made  no  reply  to  this  last  observation,  but 
placing  his  elbows  on  the  table  near  which  they  were  seated, 
buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  remained  mute  and  motion 
less  for  some  moments. 

While  thus  placed,  Mr.  Hardman  never  changed  his  posi 
tion,  nor  did  he  remove  his  eyes  from  his  young  companion 
for  a  single  instant,  but  gazed  on  him  with  an  expression 
which,  had  Arnold  seen,  and  rightly  interpreted,  might  have 
worked  marvellous  changes  in  his  future. 

Slowly  raising  his  head,  and  pushing  the  masses  of  hair 
which,  from  his  position,  had  fallen  over  and  covered  his 
forehead,  he  arose,  and  merely  said,  "  I  am  much  obliged  to 


N 
A    FASHIONABLE     WIFE'S    ADVICE.      103 

you,  Mr.  Hardman.     I  will  think  seriously  on  what  yon  have 
said.     I  don't  feel  like  saying  any  more  to-night,  so  good 
evening,"  and  in  spite  of  the  urgent  entreaties  of  his  friend 
to  "  sit  a  little  while  longer,"  he  took  his  leave. 
This  was  the  turning  point  of  Robert  Arnold's  life. 


104          THKEE     PEK     CENT.     A     MONTH. 


CHAPTER    X. 

A    CHARACTEK    APPEARS. 

MR.  BENSOX  was  in  his  shop,  for  he  had  now  an  extensive 

establishment  in street,  and  with  his  coat  and  hat  off, 

was  hard  at  work  drawing  up  some  plans  for  his  foreman, 
when  an  elderly  gentleman,  entirely  unknown  to  him,  entered, 
and  after  glancing  round  carelessly  a  moment,  was  turning 
away,  as  if  dissatisfied,  when  bethinking  himself,  he  asked  if 
Mr.  Benson  was  about. 

"  My  name,  sir,  at  your  service,"  said  Benson,  looking  up 
and  pausing  in  his  work. 

"  Oh,  you're  the  man,  are  you  ?  Are  you  very  busy,  just 
now?"  he  said,  glancing  at  the  speaker,  who  was  in  his 
shirt-sleeves. 

"Well,  I  am  always  busy,  but  I  can  attend  to  any 
thing." 

"  Put  on  your  coat  and  hat,  and  come  with  me  ;"  and  the 
stranger  spoke  in  a  half-arbitrary  manner,  as  if  he  had  a 
right  to  implicit  obedience. 

Benson  smiled,  but  made  no  reply,  and  having  given  a  few 


A      CHARACTER     APPEARS.  105 

verbal  directions  to  the  foreman,  he  went  to  the  place 
where  his  hat  and  coat  were  deposited,  and  having  donned 
them,  signified  his  readiness  to  accompany  the  stranger.  He 
saw  that  he  had  a  queer  customer  to  deal  with,  and  he  acted 
accordingly. 

They  walked  up  Avenue  several  blocks  without 

interchanging  a  word,  and  when  they  had  reached  th 

street,  the  stranger,  slackening  his  pace,  said  very  abruptly, 
"  You  know  Mr.  Hardman  ?" 

"  Thank  God,  I  do.  He  is  a  good,  kind  friend,  and  I  am 
proud  to  be  known  by  him." 

"  He  says  you  are  a  very  correct,  honest  man,  and  I  don't 
believe  he'd  say  so  unless  he  knew  all  about  you.  Do  you 
see  those  lots  ?"  and  he  pointed  towards  four  vacant  lots, 
nearly  opposite  to  the  spot  where  they  were  walking. 
"  Well,  those  are  mine.  I  am  going  to  Europe  next  Mon 
day.  I  want  four  houses  built  upon  them  I  hare  got  the 
plans  at  my  office.  Come  down  to-morrow — or  you  can 
come  to-day,  if  you  choose,  and  get  them.  I  want  you  to 
build  those  houses." 

"Monday,  sir,  is  a  very  short  tune.  I  scarcely  think  I 
can  get  up  specifications  by  that  time,  as  this  is  my  busiest 
season,  and  it  would  take  at  least  two  days  to  draw  up  a 
contract." 

"  Who  asked  you  for  any  contract  ?  Did  I  say  anything 
about  specifications  ?  I  want  you  to  put  up  those  houses. 
I  shall  be  gone  about  four  months,  and  when  I  come  back, 
I  expect  to  find  them  finished.  You  understand  ?" 


106    THEEE  PER  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

"  Oh,  perfectly,"  said  Mr.  Benson,  rather  amused  at  this 
off-hand  way  of  doing  business. 

"  I  will  leave  proper  directions  with  my  agent  to  advance 
you  money  as  you  require.  Go  on  and  build  the  houses,  and 
when  I  come  back  I  will  settle  for  them." 

"  Don't  you  think,  sir,"  queried  Mr.  Benson,  "  that  there 
had  better  be  some  written —  " 

"  You're  a  fool,  sir.  Do  you  suppose  I  don't  know  my 
own  business  ?  Mr.  Hardman  said  you  were  a  correct  and 
honest  man.  Build  those  four  houses  according  to  the 
plans,  and  I  will  settle  the  contract  when  I  get  back.  Do 
you  understand  that  ?" 

"  Perfectly.  I  have  not  another  word  to  say,  except  that 
I  am  most  grateful  to  Mr.  Hardman  for  his  good  opinion, 
and  to  you  for  acting  upon  it  as  you  have  done.  I  will  call 
this  afternoon  for  the  plans,  and  set  to  work  at  once." 

"That's  right.  I  like  that.  That's  my  way  of  doing 
business.  Then  good-day.  You'll  find  me  at  my  office  at 
three  o'clock — mind — three  o'clock,"  and  the  eccentric  stran 
ger  was  about  turning  away,  when  Benson  arrested  him, 
laying  his  hand  gently  on  his  arm,  and  saying,  "  wouldn't  it 
be  as  well  if  I  knew  your  name,  and  where  to  find  you  ?" 

"Well,  there  is  some  common  sense  in  that.  I'm  the 
fool  this  time.  George  Arnold,  No.  —  South  street.  Mind, 
Mr.  Benson,  three  o'clock,"  and  without  another  word,  Mr. 
Arnold  turned  the  first  corner,  and  Mr.  Benson  was  left 
alone  to  muse  upon  the  singularity  of  this  order. 

The  idea  of  calling  upon  a  man  to  put  up  four  houses  in 


A     CHARACTER     APPEARS. 

that  neighborhood,  where  none  but  first  class  dwellings 
would  be  tolerated,  without  any  contract  or  written  agree 
ment,  seemed  to  him  to  be  perfectly  preposterous,  but  the 
name  of  the  party  from  whom  the  order  emanated  was  a 
sufficient  guarantee  for  its  correctness. 

Mr.  Arnold  was  one  of  the  wealthiest  and  most  enter 
prising  merchants  in  New  York,  who  had  amassed  a  fortune 
which  could  be  computed  in  hundreds  of  thousands,  by  inde 
fatigable  industry,  perseverance  under  every  difficulty,  and 
unwavering  integrity.  He  had  commenced  as  a  clerk,  at 
nothing  a  year,  and  had  worked  himself  up  to  the  head  of  a 
house  whose  position  and  reputation  were  second  to  none  in 
the  city. 

Mr.  Arnold  was  indeed  a  singular  man — in  one  sense  ;  in 
another,  there  are  a  thousand  counterparts  to  be  found  in 
our  large  city.  He  was  quick — almost  passionate  in  temper 
— very  passionate  when  he  felt  he  had  been  wronged,  but 
the  readiest  man  in  the  world  to  make  allowances  for 
human  infirmities.  He  had  commenced  life  as  has  been 
stated,  on  nothing  a  year,  and  had  worked  himself,  by  the 
mere  force  of  his  character,  to  be  the  head  of  a  house, 
which  in  its  peculiar  business  was  known,  honored  and 
respected  throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  our  country. 
AnI,  reader,  as  this  book  is  written  with  the  hope  of  doing 
some  good  in  an  humble  way,  the  experience  of  one  like 
George  Arnold,  cannot  fail  to  serve  as  an  useful  lesson  to 
f.hose  who  have  the  courage  to  follow  the  example  so  plainly 
and  so  honorably  set ;  and  that  is  best  illustrated  by  a 


108    THREE  PER  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

conversation  he  held  on  one  occasion  with  a  party  who?c 
note  he  held,  and  which  had  not  been  paid  at  maturity. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Arnold,"  said  the  suppliant,  who  knew 
his  customer  only  as  one  who  was  reputed  to  be  a  hard  man 
to  deal  with,  "  I  cannot  meet  it  now.  I  only  ask  a  short 
time,  and  I  am  sure  I  can  meet  it." 

"  Well,  sir,  and  what  security  will  you  give  me  1" 

"I  cannot  give  you  any,  but  a  renewal  of  my  own 
note." 

"  I  won't  take  it,  sir,"  interrupted  Mr.  Arnold,  with  an 
air  approaching  to  rudeness.  "  You  had  no  business  to  give 
a  note  if  you  could  not  pay  it  at  maturity." 

"  You  do  not  mean,  I  hope,  to  say  1  gave  it,  knowing  1 
could  not  pay  it  1" 

"  Well,  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that." 

"  I  wish  you  knew  me  better,  sir  ;  you  would  not  think 
that  of  me.  Mr.  Arnold,  I  cannot  pay  the  note  now.  It  is 
utterly  out  of  the  question.  I  will  pay  you  one  quarter,  and 
renew  it." 

"  I  can't  do  it,  sir.  I  won't  do  it,"  was  the  stern  reply, 
"  I  must  have  my  money." 

"  Well,  sir,  thank  God  you  are  the  only  man  whom  I  owe 
whom  I  cannot  pay  now.  I  am  in  your  power  ;  do  with  me 
as  you  choose.  Good  morning,  sir,"  and  the  unhappy 
debtor  was  about  leaving. 

"Here — one  moment,  young  man.  Did  you  say  I  was 
the  only  man  you  owed,  and  could  not  pay '!" 

•"  I  did,  sir." 


A     CHARACTER     APPEARS.  109 

"  How  much  is  that  note,  Mr.  Egbert  ?"  he  said,  turning 
to  his  bookkeeper. 

"  Four  hundred  and  ninety-five  dollars,  sir." 

"  And  you  cannot  pay  it  ?" 

"  I  cannot  now,  sir.  The  business  this  spring  is  very  late. 
My  sales  have  been  light,  and  I  have  been  very  much 
cramped.  You  ought  to  know  me  better,  sir,  than  to  believe 
I  would  tell  you  an  untruth." 

"  Me  know  you  !  I  never  heard  of  you  until  I  discounted 
this  note,  and  I  did  that  because  you  were  well  spoken  of." 

"  Mr.  Arnold,  I  was  seven  years  in  the  house  where  you 
served  your  time  as  a  clerk.  I  commenced  there  at  fifty 
dollars  a  year,  and  I " 

"  That  will  do.  I  like  you  now,  young  man.  You 
needn't  pay  anything  on  that  note.  When  do  you  think 
you  can  pay  it  ?" 

"  I  should  like  at  least  sixty  days." 

"Draw  up  another  note  at  ninety  days,  Mr.  Egbert," 
he  said,  turning  to  his  bookkeeper,  "  and  add  the  interest  in. 
Young  man,  I  think  better  of  you.  I  commenced  my  clerk 
ship  in  that  house  twenty-nine  years  ago.  They  gave  me 
fifty  dollars  the  first  year,  and  I  saved  twenty  out  of  it, 
because  I  had  no  expenses  to  pay  then.  The  next  year  they 
gave  me  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  and  I  had  to  help  a 
sick  mother  at  that ;  but  I  did  it,  sir,  and  saved  up  a  hun 
dred  dollars.  Why,  sir,"  he  continued,  growing  animated 
with  his  subject,  "  I  remember  the  time  when  I  slept  in  an 
open  attic,  and  the  roof  was  so  leaky  that  the  snow  and  raiu 


110    THKEE   PEK  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

came  through  it  like  a  sieve.  Yes,  sir,  many  a  time  I  have 
got  up  at  six  o'clock  of  a  morning,  and  broken  the  ice  in  my 
tin  wash-basin  to  wash  my  hands  and  face  ;  but  I  made  up 
my  mind  that  I  would  save  money,  and  I  did,  and  before  I 
had  been  in  that  house  seven  years,  they  sent  me  to  Europe 
to  buy  goods  for  them,  and  trusted  me  with  over  thirty 
thousand  dollars.  If  you  know  how  to  save  money,  I'll 
trust  you,  siV.  There,  sign  that  note,"  and  he  pushed 
towards  him  the  note  which  Mr.  Egbert,  in  obedience  to 
orders,  had  filled  out.  "You  can  have  your  own  time, 
and,"  he  continued,  as  the  visitor  signed  the  note  and  pre 
sented  it  to  him,  with  many  expressions  of  thanks  for  his 
confidence,  "  if  you  want  anything  in  my  line,  you  can  have 
it  on  the  usual  terms.  I  don't  want  any  endorser  from  a 
man  who  knows  how  to  save  money." 

Mr.  Egbert  turned  away  with  a  quiet  laugh,  for  he  well 
knew  the  character  of  his  employer  ;  and  the  young  man, 
whose  name  it  is  not  necessary  to  name  even  by  implication, 
left  the  store  with  a  heart  filled  with  the  deepest  gratitude. 

And  this  was  George  Arnold.  When  satisfied  of  the 
innate  integrity  of  any  man,  he  would  trust  him  to  any  con 
ceivable  amount ;  but  when  once  he  found  himself  deceived, 
and  his  confidence  misplaced,  he  was  as  unforgiving  as  an 
Indian.  He  never  wronged  a  man  willfully,  and  he  could 
not,  in  his  very  nature,  forgive  one  who  had  wronged  him. 

And  George  Arnold  was  the  uncle  of  Robert  Arnold^— his 
very  antipodes  in  character,  conduct,  and  principles,  but 
still  his  uncle  ;  and  loving  his  nephew  as  his  only  surviving 


A     CHAKACTEK     APPEARS.  1H 

relative,  lie  had  watched  his  course  with  the  cautious,  jealous 
eyes  of  affection.  True,  they  had  little  intercourse,  for  their 
characters  were  so  different — so  widely  different — there  was 
no  possibility  of  reconciling  them  ;  but  Robert,  with  all  his 
experiences  in  the  world,  had  never  yet  learned  to  fully 
appreciate  the  finer  points  of  his  eccentric  uncle's  character, 
and  presuming  upon  his  own  judgment,  had  never  sought  to 
win  his  confidence  or  friendship,  rather  looking  upon  his 
relative  as  a  cross,  selfish,  and  cold-hearted  man,  who  was 
not  capable  of  feeling  sympathy  for  the  sorrows  or  troubles 
of  his  fellows. 

"  Well,  you  are  a  singular  customer,  any  how,"  said  Mr. 
Benson,  as  he  watched  the  retreating  form  of  the  merchant, 
who,  though  a  perfect  stranger  to  him,  had  put  such 
unlimited  confidence  in  him.  "But  I  won't  disappoint  you, 
nor  do  injustice  to  Mr.  Hardman's  good  opinion  of  me,"  and 
ae  went  back  to  his  shop,  well  pleased  with  his  morning's 
work. 

During  the  day,  business  called  him  down  town,  and 
being  near  Mr.  Hardman's  office,  he  could  not  refrain  from 
calling. 

"You  have  sent  me  a  queer  customer,  Mr.  Hardman,  this 
morning,"  said  Benson,  seating  himself  in  accordance  with, 
his  friend's  invitation. 

"  Me  ?     I  have  not  sent  any  one  as  I  remember." 

"  Mr.  Arnold.  He  is  the  oddest  man  I  ever  knew,  and 
does  business  as  I  never  before  saw  it  done.  Why,  Mr, 
Hardman.  he  has  ordered  me  to  put  up  four  first  class 


112  THBEE     PEK     CENT.      A     MONTH. 

houses,  without  any  contract  or  stipulation  as  to  price  at 
all.  I  am  going  to  his  office  to  get  the  plans,  and  that  is 
ail  I  am  to  know  about  it." 

"  At  what  time  did  he  tell  you  to  call  ?" 

"  Three  o'clock." 

"  Well,  let  three  o'clock  mean  three     You  understand  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  saw  enough  of  him  for  that.  Just  as  the  clock 
strikes,  I  shall  be  in  his  office.  But  how  did  you  come  to 
speak  of  me  to  him  ?  I  am  sure  I  am  very  grateful  to  you 
for  your  good  opinion." 

"  He  was  here  yesterday,  and  chanced  to  mention  that  he 

meant  to  put  up  some  houses  in Avenue,  but  he  said 

he  hated  to  be  troubled  with  contracts  and  specifications. 
He  always  found  that  the  extras  cost  him  half  as  much  as 
the  original  contract,  and  I  mentioned  your  name  to  him, 
telling  him  that  if  I  had  a  house  to  build,  I  would  give  you 
the  job  without  a  contract,  as  I  was  sure  you  would  do  the 
fair  thing." 

"Thank  you,  sir,  I  would,"  said  Mr.  Benson,  highly 
pleased  at  the  praise  which  his  friend  had  bestowed  on  him. 

"He  did  not  say  another  word  about  his  houses,  but 
asked  me  a  few  questions  about  yon,  and  I  gave  him  your 
address.  By  the  way,  I  have  invested  your  money,  Benson.'; 

"  Thank  you  again,  sir." 

"  There's  interest  due  you  for  seven  weeks  before  I  made 
any  purchase.  I  will  give  you  a  check  for  it  now,  together 
with  the  bonds,"  and  he  opened  his  desk  and  turned  over  a 
mass  of  papers  from  which  he  selected  a  bundle  labelled 


A     CHARACTER     APPEARS.  113 

with  Benson's  name.  "  Here  they  are.  I  bought  for  you 
as  I  would  for  myself ;  in  fact,  I  bought  some  of  the  same. 
I  consider  them  as  good  as  gold.  I  bought  at  eighty,  and 
they  pay  seven  per  cent.  There  are  nine  bonds.  I  think 
they  will  go  to  par  soon.  At  all  events,  the  interest  is  paid 
regularly,  and  you  get  seven  per  cent,  on  twelve  thousand." 

"Just  keep  them,  Mr.  Hardman.  I  have  no  place  for 
them  at  home." 

"  I  had  better  give  you  a  receipt  for  them,  in  case  of  any 
accident,"  and  throwing  the  bundle  back  into  his  desk,  he 
drew  up  a  receipt,  which,  with  a  check  for  the  interest,  he 
handed  to  Benson. 

"Now,  Benson,  mind  you  keep  right  with  Mr.  Arnold. 
He  is  a  queer  customer,  as  you  say  ;  but  if  you  make  a 
friend  of  him,  he  will  be  of  great  service  to  you." 

"  Is  he  any  relation  to  the  young  gentleman  I  saw  at  your 
house  one  night,  and  whose  house  I  repaired  ?" 

"  Yes,  uncle  ;  but  they  are  very  different  characters." 

"  True.  It  don't  require  spectacles  to  find  that  out,"  said 
Benson  laughing  as  he  took  his  leave. 

Punctually  to  the  second,  as  the  clock  struck  three,  Benson 
was  at  Mr.  Arn  >ld's  office. 

Without  any  salutation,  except  the  briefest  possible  nod 
of  recognition,  that  gentleman  took  from  his  table  a  roll  of 
plans,  which  he  handed  to  Mr.  Benion,  who  unfolded  them 
and  glanced  at  them  with  the  eye  of  one  who  felt  he  was 
master'  of  his  business. 

"  These  will  be  very  expensive  houses,  Mr.  Arnold,"  he 
said. 


114    THREE  PEE  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

"  Well,  I  know  that.  What  of  it  ?  Are  you  afraid  to 
undertake  them  ?" 

"  Oh,  not  at  all.  I  was  just  running  over  in  my  mind  what 
they  would  probably  cost." 

"  You  can  tell  that  better  when  they  are  finished.  I  did 
not  ask  you  anything  about  the  price.  Here,"  and  he  handed 
to  him  a  small  scrap  of  paper,  on  which  he  had  been  writing 
while  conversing,  "there  is  an  order  allowing  you  to 
draw  such  amounts  as  you  may  require  during  the  progress 
of  the  houses.  That's  all.  I  am  very  busy  now,  as  I  must 
be  off  on  Monday,  and  I  have  all  my  arrangements  to 
make  yet." 

This  was  a  very  polite  way  of  saying  "  good  morning," 
and  without  a  word,  Benson  took  his  roll  of  plans,  his  order 
for  an  unlimited  amount  of  money,  and  bowed  himself  out, 
fully  satisfied  that  he  had  met  a  very  remarkable  man. 

The  order  he  deposited  at  once  with  Mr.  Hardman,  who 
laughed  heartily  as  he  listened  to  the  narrative  of  the  inter 
view,  and  the  plans  he  took  to  his  shop.  He  did  not  go 
near  Mr.  Arnold  again,  but  on  the  next  day  had  men  at 
work  digging  out  for  the  foundations,  and  went  to  work  at 
once  making  his  contracts  for  the  necessary  articles 


SYMPTOMS    OF    A    FAMILY    QTTAKKEL.    115 


CHAPTEE  XI. 

SYMPTOMS    OF    A    FAMILY   QUARREL. 

WHEN  Robert  Arnold  left  his  friend's  house,  he  descended 
the  steps  slowly  and  musingly.  His  conscience  told  him 
that  he  had  been  judiciously  and  wisely  advised,  and  he  was 
convinced  that  his  only  true  and  safe  course  consisted  in 
following  that  advice.  But  in  opposition  to  this  there  arose 
within  him  that  terrible  bugbear — the  fear  of  the  world ; 
the  apprehension  of  what  his  friends  would  say,  and  what 
effect  the  change  he  had  been  advised  to  make  would  have 
apon  his  future  prospects. 

Then,  too,  he  thought  of  his  position — a  position  which  he 
could  forget  he  had  earned  by  the  most  lavish,  wasteful 
expenditure  of  money,  and  the  sacrifice  of  his  own  peace 
and  comfort,  for  the  sake  of  the  praise  of  others  for  whom 
he  really  cared  nothing.  He  could  forget,  too,  that  the 
position  of  which  he  was  so  proud  might  be  lost  much  more 
easily  than  it  had  been  won,  and  once  lost,  it  would  require 
more  effort  than  he  was  capable  of  giving  to  regain  it  ;  and 
that  the  friends  upon  whose  good  will  he  now  counted, 


116     THREE  PER  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

would  disappear  before  the  clouds  of  adversity,  as  the  dew 
before  the  morning  sun. 

He  had  obtained  a  position  which  entitled — nay,  which 
demanded — that  he  should  sacrifice  his  own  comfort  to  the 
thoughts  of  others  ;  that  he  should  entertain  scores  of 
friends  who  cared  for  nothing  but  their  own  entertainment ; 
that  he  should  squander  hundreds  and  thousands  upon  those 
who  wouM  shun  him  when  he  was  no  longer  able  to  contri 
bute  to  their  amusement.  These  thoughts  had  never  before 
entered  his  mind,  or  if  they  had,  he  chased  them  away  as 
something  entirely  out  of  place  with  one  before  whom  the 
world  appeared  so  bright  and  beautiful. 

"  Sufficient  to  the  day,"  he  thought  to  himself,  "  would  be 
the  evil  thereof ;"  and  hugging  to  himself  the  idea  that  his 
present  prosperity  would  be  perpetual,  he  would  not  permit 
such  depressing  thoughts  to  interfere  with  his  present  plea 
sures. 

He  moved  away  slowly  and  mechanically,  pondering  on 
the  conversation  just  had,  and  more  than  half  inclined  to 
follow  the  excellent  advice  of  his  friend.  However,  before 
making  up  his  mind,  he  resolved  to  consult  Belle,  though  he 
knew  well  enough  what  she  would  counsel. 

In  this  moody  and  unsettled  state  of  mind,  he  reached  his 
home,  and  found  Belle  in  a  terrible  passion  with  the  seam 
stress  whom  she  had  just  discharged. 

Glad  of  anything  to  divert  his  own  thoughts  from  his  pre 
sent  situation,  he  inquired  what  was  the  matter. 

"Why,"  said  Belle,  holding  up  a  little  child's  garment, 


SYMPTOMS    OF    A    FAMILY    QUAIiKEL.      117 

"  the  stupid  girl  has  gone  and  put  the  tuck  in  this  dress  half 
an  inch  lower  than  I  told  her  ;  and  she  knows  how  particu 
lar  I  am." 

"  But  did  you  discharge  her  for  that  ?"  inquired  her  hus 
band.  "  You  surely  did  not  discharge  her  for  such  a  trifling 
cause  ?" 

"  Trifling  cause,  indeed  !  To  be  sure  I  did,"  she  replied, 
angrily.  "Do  you  suppose  I'm  going  to  have  a  woman 
about  me  who  don't  pay  any  attention  to  what  I  say  ?  Just 
look  at  that  dress — it  is  completely  spoiled,"  and  she  held 
up  to  his  view  a  very  beautiful  and  richly  trimmed  silk 
dress,  intended  for  their  daughter  Ida. 

Robert  did  not  know  enough  about  ladies'  dresses,  or 
children's  dresses,  to  be  able  to  detect  the  great  fault  of 
which  his  wife  complained,  and  was  simple  enough  to  admire 
it  as  being  very  beautiful,  and  very  tastily  made. 

"  You  are  a  fool  I"  she  said,  snatching  it  angrily  from 
him.  "  Do  you  suppose  I  would  let  my  child  wear  a  dress 
like  that  ?  Just  look  at  that  tuck.  It  is  a  full  half  inch 
lower  than  it  ought  to  be.  Everybody  will  know  that  it  is 
a  botched  piece  of  work." 

"But,  Belle,"  said  her  husband,  hoping  to  soothe  her, 
"  you  forget  you  were  once  a  dressmaker  yourself.  Were 
you  ever  treated  in  that  way  ?  Were  you  ever  turned  out 
of  your  situation  because  you  happened  to  make  a  mis 
take  ?" 

"  There  you  go  again,  sir.  I  am  much  obliged  to  you,  I 
am  sure,  for  reminding  me  of  what  I  have  been.  Perhaps 


118    THREE  PEB  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

you  had  better  invite  all  our  friends  in,  and  let  them  know 
it,  too.  No  doubt  it  would  afford  them  infinite  satisfaction 
to  talk  it  over." 

"  You  talk  foolishly,  Belle  ;  you  talk  worse  than  foolishly 
I  am  afraid  prosperity  has  turned  your  head.  I  really 
think  you  have  acted  very  unreasonably  with  the  girl 
Who  knows  but  upon  her  keeping  her  situation  with  you, 
depended  the  support  of  a  sick  mother,  or  perhaps  some 
young  brothers  and  sisters.  I  think  you  have  acted  hastily, 
to  say  the  least." 

"And  I  think  you  are  a  fool,  sir,"  she  replied,  flirting 
away. 

"  Well,  that  is  just  what  Mr.  Hardman  says,"  he  replied 
half  laughingly,  hoping  to  avert  the  threatened  storm,  "  and 
BO  long  as  there  are  two  to  one,  I  might  as  well  give 
in." 

"  Then  you  have  seen  Mr.  Hardman,  have  you,  Robert  T} 
she  said,  throwing  the  dress  carelessly  upon  the  bed  ;  and 
drawing  an  easy-chair  up  by  the  fire,  she  threw  herself  in  it, 
while  her  husband  proceeded  to  divest  himself  of  his  coat 
and  hat.  "  And  what  did  he  say  ?"  she  inquired,  continu 
ing,  for  Robert  had  made  no  answer  to  her  question. 

"  Pretty  much  what  you  said  just  now,  Belle." 

"  And  what  was  that  ?" 

"  That  I  was  a  fool." 

"Well,  he  knows  you  as  well  as  anybody,  and  is  as 
capable  of  forming  a  correct  opinion  of  you  ;  so  I  suppose  I 
must  not  find  any  fault  with  him.  But  come,  dear,  tell  me 


SYMPTOMS  OF  A  FAMILY  QUAKE  EL.  119 

what  he  did  say.     Did  you  tell  him  what  you  proposed 

to  do  ?" 

"  I  did." 

"  What  did  he  say  ?" 

"  His  advice  is  that  I  should  sell  the  house  and  furniture, 
break  up  housekeeping  and  go  to  boarding." 

"  Go  on,  sir  ;  what  else  did  he  say  ?"  she  asked,  tapping 
the  carpet  impatiently  with  her  slippered  foot. 

"  He  discouraged  the  idea  of  my  going  into  business  at 
present,  as  I  am  now  situated." 

"  And  why  ?" 

"Because,  in  the  first  place,  I  have  no  capital.  In  the 
ne*t  place,  I  cannot  start  without  the  certainty  of  incurring 
an  expense  of  at  least  eight  or  ten  thousand  dollars  a  year. 
And  if  I  do  not  succeed  in  making  that,  of  course  I  shall  be 
worse  off  than  I  am  now,  and  instead  of  selling  my  house 
for  myself,  somebody  else  will  sell  it  for  me." 

"  Now,  Robert,"  said  his  wife,  and  she  turned  to  him  so 
as  to  look  him  full  in  the  face,  though  without  rising  from 
her  seat,  but  rather  settling  herself  in  her  chair,  with  an  air 
of  determination,  as  if  conscious  of  her  own  power,  and 
resolved  to  exercise  it  on  this  occasion,  "  now  listen  to 
me.  You  told  me  the  other  day  that  you  sold  full  one-half 
of  all  the  goods  in  your  late  firm." 

"  Well,  I  think  I  did." 

"And  you  have  made  for  your  share  of  the  profits  during 
the  two  years  you  have  been  with  them,  over  eighteen 
thousand  dollars.  Is  not  that  so  ?" 


120  T  H  B  E  E      r  E  li      C  E  N  T  .      A      M  O  XT  IT . 

"  I  admit  that  is  true." 

"Then,  if  I  know  how  to  count  right,  you  must  have 
cleared  over  thirty  thousand  dollars  in  each  year,  because 
there  were  four  of  you  between  whom  your  profits  were  to 
be  divided." 

"  And  that's  true,"  said  Robert,  his  countenance  brighten 
ing  a  little  as  he  evidently  caught  the  idea  which  was  run 
ning  through  his  wife's  busy  brain. 

"  If,  then,  you  could  make  thirty  thousand  dollars  a  year, 
and  you,  as  you  have  said,  sold  nearly  half  the  goods  by 
which  that  was  made,  what  earthly  reason  is  there  to 
believe  that  you  could  not  sell  for  yourself  just  as  many 
goods  as  you  did  when  you  were  selling  for  yourself  and 
others  ?  Come,  answer  me  that,  Mr.  Arnold  ?" 

"Well,  there's  something  in  that,"  said  Robert,  placing 
his  hand  on  his  forehead,  as  if  he  were  trying  to  fasten 
there  the  idea  which  had  just  been  hinted  at.  "  But  then  I 
have  no  capital  to  start  with.  It  is  very  true,  I  believe  I  can 
buy  as  many  goods  as  I  wish,  and  I  can  sell  as  many  as  I  buy." 

"  Then,"  said  his  wife,  hastily  interrupting  him,  "  I  think 
Mr.  Hardman  was  perfectly  right  in  calling  you  a  fool. 
Here,  by  your  own  showing,  you  have  sold  goods  enough  to 
make  fifteen  thousand  dollars  a  year,  and  yet  you  are  afraid 
to  begin — and  why  ?" 

"  Well,  but,  Belle,  it  is  a  very  great  hazard.  Suppose 
ifey  customers  don't  pay  up.  I  have  got  to  pay  for  my 
goods  any  how." 

"  And  suppose  you  don't  pay  for  them,"  said  his  wife,  "  1 


SYMPTOMS    OF    A    FAMILY    QUARREL.    121 

don't  see  how  you  are  to  be  any  worse  off  than  you  are 
now." 

"  There  is  some  truth  in  that  too,"  said  Robert,  quite  wil 
ling  to  be  convinced  that  the  course  he  wished  to  adopt  was 
the  right  one.  "  There  is  one  thing  very  certain,  if  I  don't 
do  something,  and  that  immediately,  we  must  give  up  the 
house.  I  have  not  over  three  hundred  dollars  in  the  world, 
and  we  cannot  keep  this  house  going  very  long  with  that 
much  money  as  we  are  living  now." 

"  That's  just  what  I  knew,"  replied  his  wife.  "  How 
much  better  it  would  be  to  hold  up  your  head,  and  keep 
appearances  up,  and  not  let  people  know  your  real  situation 
until  there  is  absolute  necessity  for  it.  If  the  worst  comes  to 
the  worst,  and  we  are  obliged  to  sell  the  house,  I  shall  say 
amen  ;  but  as  things  stand  now,  I  think  you  would  be  more 
than  foolish  to  throw  away  your  present  chances." 

"  Weil,  I  don't  know  but  you  are  right,"  replied  Robert, 
half  musingly.  "  My  own  belief  is,  that  I  can  make  out. 
But  I  will  tell  you  one  thing,  Belle,  we  must  cut  off  some  of 
our  expenses." 

"  Well,  of  course.  I  am  as  ready  for  that  as  you  are.  I 
am  sure  you  cannot  call  me  very  expensive.  I  have  not  had 
anything  which  is  not  necessary  and  proper  for  my  position 
in  society.  It  is  true,  we  have  both  spent  a  great  deal  of 
money,  and  I  am  willing  to  acknowledge  that  I  have  had 
my  share.  But  we  could  not  move  in  the  society  where  we 
have  been  for  the  last  two  years,  and  we  cannot  go  into  the 
kind  of  company  we  wish  to  associate  with,  without  expense 


122    THREE  PEE  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

There  is  that  seamstress  ;  I  will  try  and  get  along  without 
her  now." 

"  How  much  have  you  been  paying  her  ?"  asked  Eobert. 

"  Three  dollars  a  week." 

"  And  we  must  not  give  any  more  parties  this  winter," 
said  Robert,  with  an  air  of  hesitation. 

"  Then  you  must  not  expect  to  go  to  any  more,"  said  his 
wife  ;  "  because  if  we  don't  ask  our  friends,  they  won't  ask 
us." 

"  Well,  we  must  stay  at  home  for  one  winter.  Then,  I 
think,"  he  continued,  "  we  had  better  discard  the  carriage." 

"  There  you  go  again,"  she  said,  her  face  flushed  partly 
with  anger,  as  she  saw  him  breaking  away  from  her  influ 
ences.  "  That  is  just  what  you  said  before  ;  and  that  very 
thing  would  do  more  to  hurt  you  than  anything  else  you 
could  do.  Why,  people  would  say  at  once  that  you  were 
too  poor  to  keep  your  carriage.  It  would  be  talked  of  by 
Tom,  and  Dick,  and  Harry,  and  your  credit  would  be  utterly 
ruined  ;  and  as  you  say  yourself,  you  have  no  capital,  I 
should  like  to  know  what  would  become  of  you." 

"  But  I  don't  see  how  I  can  keep  it,"  was  her  husband's 
reply,  with  an  expression  which  showed  that  he  wished  she 
would  point  out  the  way,  for  he  was  as  loath  to  part  with 
any  luxury  as  herself. 

"  Well,  we  must  diminish  some  of  our  house  expenses. 
There  is  the  seamstress,  I  have  got  rid  of  her.  There  is 
that  cook,  Betty.  I  give  her  twelve  dollars  a  month  now  ; 
I  can  get  another  for  eight." 


SYMPTOMS    OF    A    FAMILY    QTTAKKEL.    123 

"Have  you  any  idea,"  asked  Kobert,  abruptly,  "how 
much  our  house  bills  amouut  to  ?  They  will  be  coming  in 
pretty  soon,  and  I  must  make  some  preparation  for  them." 

"  I  am  sure  I  do  not  know,"  replied  his  wife,  coloring 
deeply,  for  he  was  now  approaching  a  very  tender  point. 
"  There  is  the  grocer,  there  will  be  a  quarter's  bill  due  him 
on  the  first ;  and  the  butcher — I  can't  say  how  much  his 
last  month's  bill  will  come  to.  I  don't  know  but  you  have 
paid  the  servants'  wages." 

"  Why,  Belle,"  said  Mr.  Arnold,  moving  uneasily  in  his 
chair,  and  showing  slight  symptoms  of  rising  anger,  "  I  am 
sure  I  left  money  with  you  to  pay  those  bills." 

"  Yes,  I  know  you  did  ;  but  they  did  not  send  for  the 
money  again,  and  I  had  to  use  it  in  a  thousand  ways." 

"  Good  heavens  1"  exclaimed  Arnold,  "  I  did  not  think 
that.  You  have  done  very  wrong  there,  Belle." 

"  Oh,  of  course,"  replied  his  wife,  testily,  "  I  cannot 
expect  always  to  do  right." 

"Well,  there  are  no  other  bills,  are  there,  Belle  ?" 

"  Yes,  a  few,"  she  replied  ;  "  some  small  bills  of  my  own." 

"Why,  surely,  Belle,  you  don't  mean  to  say  that  with  all 
the  money  you  have  had  for  yourself  and  the  children,  you 
have  been  running  in  debt  besides  ?" 

"  Well,  I  have,  and  I  have  been  obliged  to  do  it.  You 
know  I  must  dress  according  to  the  society  in  which  we 
move,  And  I  must  have  my  jewelry,  and  the  children  must 
have  their  dresses  for  parties  and  their  dresses  for  dancing- 
school.  Then  there  is  the  music  master,  and  a  thousand 


12-4          THREE      PEE     (JENT.      A     MONTH. 

little  things  that  you  men  don't  know  anything  about,  and 
which  I  suppose  you  think  we  can  get  without  the  aid  of 
money. 

"  Well,  how  much  do  you  owe,  Belle,  if  you  know  ? 
Have  you  any  idea  ?  Let  me  see  what  I  hare  to  face." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  hare  some  of  the  bills  here,  Robert.  You 
can  readily  see  how  much  they  come  to,"  she  said,  coloring 
still  more  deeply  ;  and  rising,  she  went  to  her  bureau,  and 
taking  from  one  of  the  drawers  a  mass  of  crumpled  papers 
which  had  been  carelessly  thrown  in,  she  laid  them  on  the 
table  before  him.  One  by  one  he  unfolded  and  smoothed 
them  out,  but  without  uttering  a  single  word  ;  for  while 
thus  occupied,  he  had  been  mentally  calculating  the  total 
amounts,  and  thp  aggregate  gave  him  a  shock  more  severe 
than  even  the  advice  of  his  kind  friend,  Mr.  Hardman. 

"By  heavens,  Belle,  this  will  never  do  1"  he  exclaimed  ; 
"  here  are  over  twenty-five  hundred  dollars  of  bills,  besides 
all  the  money  you  have  had.  And  I  see  that  some  of  them 
have  been  due  these  six  months.  If  I  had  known  that,  I  do 
not  think  I  should  ever  have  troubled  Mr.  Hardmau  for 
advice,  for  common  sense  would  have  told  me  that  I  was 
going  to  the  devil  as  fast  as  I  could." 

"  Of  course,  sir,"  she  replied,  "  there  is  nobody  extravagant 
but  me.  Your  horses  and  carriages  don't  cost  anything  ; 
and  your  champaigne  suppers  don't  cost  anything  ;  and 
your  whist  parties  don't  cost  anything.  And  you  didn't 
spend  any  money  at  Saratoga  last  summer.  Oh,  no,  not  at 
oil !  But  I  must  keep  this  house,  with  its  five  servants. 


SYMPTOMS    OF     A    FAMILY    QUABREL.       125 

and  dress  myself  and  the  children  as  you  always  wish  to  see 
us  dressed,  and  I  suppose  you  will  allow  me  an  hundred  dol 
lars  a  year  to  do  it  with.  Oh,  no,  you  don't  spend  any 
money  1  Now,  look  here,  Master  Robert,  here  are  some 
bills  that  came  in  this  evening  while  you  were  out.  Just 
please  to  look  at  those.  There  is  your  bill  for  liquors  and 
segars,  and  there  is  your  tailor's  bill — and  here's  another 
small  item,  your  harness  maker.  Just  please  to  see  how 
much  those  come  to,  and  they  are  not  three  months  old  yet." 

Eobert  glanced  at  their  amounts  and  saw  that  the  total 
reached  nearly  seven  hundred  dollars,  at  which  he  was 
rather  startled,  principally,  however,  because  he  knew  he 
had  not  the  means  to  pay  them.  For  a  few  moments  he  sat 
perfectly  mute,  and  his  wife,  as  if  conscious  of  the  tenor  of 
his  thoughts,  "made  no  effort  to  break  the  silence.  At 
length,  hastily  rising,  he  dashed  the  bills  on  the  table  with 
unnecessary  vehemence,  and  exclaimed,  "I  will  do  it  or 
die." 

His  wife  well  knew  what  these  words  meant,  and  feeling 
that  she  had  carried  her  point,  at  once  endeavored  to 
change  the  current  of  his  thoughts. 

She  spoke  of  his  proposed  business  arrangements.  Asked 
what  kind  of  a  store  he  had  taken,  what  rent  he  paid,  and 
various  questions  of  that  kind  which  she  knew  would  inte 
rest  him,  and  which  conveyed  the  idea  that  she,  too,  was 
deeply  interested. 


126          THREE     PEK     GENT.      A     MONTH 


CHAPTEE    XII. 

"UNCLE  GEORGE,"  AND  WHAT  HE  DID. 

"I  TELL  you  what  I  think  of  doing,  Belle.  You  know 
there  is  Uncle  George.  I  have  not  seen  much  of  him  these 
three  years,  and  I  know  I  am  the  only  relative  he  has  living 
in  the  world.  He  is  a  very  wealthy  man,  and  perhaps  he 
will  be  willing  to  give  me  a  start." 

"  I  wonder  you  didn't  think  of  that  before,"  said  his  wife, 
now  glad  to  see  that  she  had  so  completely  carried  her 
point.  "  I  have  no  doubt  at  all  but  he  would  gladly  assist 
you." 

"But  I  will  tell  you,  Belle,"  said  he,  with  something  of 
hesitation  in  his  manner,  "  he  is  one  of  those  kind  of  men,  if  he 
knows  how  we  have  been  living,  or  should  happen  to  know 
that  out  of  all  I  have  made  I  have  not  saved  anything,  he 
would  be  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  help  me.  I  mean  to 
try  him,  however,  to-morrow,  and  if  he  will  only  give  me  a  lift, 
I  shall  not  feel  afraid  of  the  consequences,  notwithstanding 
Mr.  Hardman's  predictions." 

"  I  don't  think,"  said  Belle,  "  that  Mr.  Hardman  is  capa- 


UNCLE     GEORGE.  127 

ble  of  appreciating  what  you  really  are  or  wish  to  be.  I 
think  he  is  so  set  in  his  ways,  and  has  such  an  idea  that 
every  person  can  do  just  the  same  as  he  has  done,  that  he 
cannot  make  proper  allowances  for  differences  of  education, 
habits,  and  associations,  and  he  makes  up  his  mind  that 
whatever  he  could  do,  any  other  person  could.  Now,  don't 
you  think  so  ?" 

"  Well,  I  have  often  thought  of  that  myself,"  said  Robert, 
"  and  I  have  told  him  so  times  and  times  again  ;  but  he 
says  that  what  one  man  can  do  another  can,  and  he  won't 
receive  any  excuse.  I  think  he  is  very  unreasonable  there, 
and  don't  make  proper  allowances.  But,  Belle,"  he  con 
tinued,  "  do  you  think  it  is  best  to  give  anymore  parties  this 
winter  ?  Don't  you  think  we  had  better  retrench  a  little 
upon  that  point  ?  I  am  as  fond  of  spending  money  as  you 
are,  and  I  am  very  willing  to  earn  it,  but  I  am  really  afraid 
I  shall  hurt  myself." 

"  Hurt  fiddlestick  !  There's  no  use  of  doing  things  by 
halves,"  said  his  wife  ;  "  either  make  up  your  mind  to  adopt 
the  course  you  said  you  would  just  now,  or  else  do  as  Mr. 
Hardman  has  advised  you.  You  can't  stop  half  way.  If 
you  give  up  your  carriage,  they  will  say  you  are  too  poor  to 
keep  it ;  if  you  don't  give  parties,  they  will  say  you  cannot 
afford  it ;  and  little  by  little  you  will  find  your  credit  oozing 
away,  and  all  your  efforts  to  keep  the  position  that  you  now 
have,  will  be  in  vain" 

"  I  know,  Belle,  that  all  sounds  very  well,  but  how  will  it 
look  for  me  to  be  giving  a  party  that  will  cost  me  four  or 


128    THREE  PER  CENT.   A  MONTE. 

five  hundred  dollars,  while  at  the  very  same  time,  I  have 
not  paid,  and  cannot  pay  for  the  clothes  you  have  on  ?" 

"  Well,  I  suppose  it  would  look  bad,  and  does  look  bad, 
if  everybody  knew  it,  and  I  am  sure  I  shan't  tell  them ;  but 
how  can  you  mend  it  ?  You  are  in  that  position  now  that 
you  are  compelled  to  choose  one  of  two  things — you  have 
got  to  give  up  the  house  and  go  to  boarding,  or  you  must 
make  up  your  mind  to  keep  it,  and  face  it  out.  If  you 
choose,  after  all  you  have  made,  to  go  back  so  soon  to 
where  you  began,  without  an  effort  to  keep  your  place,  I 
have  not  a  word  to  say,  of  course.  But  my  advice  is,  to 
keep  up  appearances  ;  for  as  long  as  you  do  that — so  long 
us  people  believe  you  are  rich — so  long  they  will  treat  you 
as  if  you  were  rich.  But  once  you  seem  poor,  you  will  find 
that  every  person  will  turn  a  cold  shoulder  to  you.  Why, 
llobert,  how  many  do  you  suppose  that  visit  us  now,  if  you 
were  to  give  up  housekeeping  to-morrow  and  go  to  board 
ing,  would  believe  that  you  did  so  except  because  you  could 
not  help  it  ?" 

"  I  know  there  is  a  great  deal  of  truth  in  that,"  said 
Kobert.  "  I  know  the  opinion  of  the  world  goes  a  great 
ways  ;  but  it  is  a  desperate  game  I  have  got  to  play.  How 
ever,  I  have  made  up  my  mind,  at  all  events,  to  try  it,  and, 
as  you  say,  I  can't  be  any  worse  off  a  year  hence  than  I  am 
now.'- 

The  conversation  continued  in  this  strain  for  some  time 
longer — Belle  arguing  her  point  with  a  pertinacity  which 
insured  her  husband's  adherence  to  her  views,  and  he  readily 


UNCLE     GEOEGE.  129 

falling  in  with  them  because  they  suited  his  own.  The  good 
advice  which  Mr.  Hardman  had  given  him  was  forgotten, 
and  he  made  to  his  own  conscience  the  plea  that  his  friend 
was  not  capable  of  making  proper  allowances  for  the  great 
differences  in  their  positions.  He  was  a  very  wealthy  man, 
who  could  afford  to  live  as  he  chose.  He  could  spend  his 
five,  ten,  or  twenty  thousand  dollars  a  year,  or  he  could  live 
upon  one.  He  could  go  in  a  coat  out  at  the  elbows,  and 
those  who  knew  him  would  laugh  at  his  eccentricity.  But 
if  Mr.  Arnold  were  to  come  down  to  a  thousand  dollars  a 
year,  and  wear  a  shabby  coat,  the  world  would  say  at  once 
that  he  could  not  help  himself. 

And  so  he  satisfied  himself  by  this  false  sophistry  that  he 
was  right,  and  that  his  wife's  view  of  the  case  was  the  pro 
per  one. 

Before  they  retired  for  the  night,  Eobert  had  firmly  made 
up  his  mind  that,  in  spite  of  the  advice  of  his  good  friend, 
Mr.  Hardman,  he  would  take  the  chances,  and  go  into  busi 
ness  on  his  own  account ;  and  in  order  the  better  to  keep 
up  present  appearances,  they  determined  to  economize 
within  the  house  as  much  as  possible.  Betty,  the  cook,  was 
to  be  discharged  ;  the  seamstress  had  already  been  dis 
pensed  with  ;  the  music  lessons  were  to  be  discontinued  as 
soon  as  the  quarter  was  ended  ;  and  they  were  not  to  give 
but  one  more  party  during  the  season.  By  these  means, 
they  calculated  upon  saving  at  least  four  hundred  dollars 
during  the  year — not  for  one  instant  thinking  what  a  mere 

drop  in  the  bucket  that  was,  compared  to  their  extravagant 
9 


130    THREE  PER  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

and  foolish  expenditures  in  other  quarters,  which  could  only 
be  counted  by  thousands. 

The  next  morning,  in  accordance  with  the  promise  he  had 
made  to  his  wife,  Eobert  called  at  his  uncle's  store.  Now, 
it  happened  that  it  was  on  this  very  day  that  Mr.  Arnold 
had  met  Mr.  Benson,  as  has  been  stated  in  a  previous  chap 
ter,  ancPperhaps  he  could  not  have  chosen  a  worse  opportu 
nity  for  accomplishing  the  purpose  of  his  visit.  However, 
he  knew  nothing  of  that,  but  entered  the  store  determined 
to  lay  his  case  plainly  before  his  uncle,  and  solicit  his  aid  in 
re-establishing  himself  in  business. 

"  Well,  Eobert,"  said  his  uncle,  after  the  first  greetings 
had  been  exchanged,  "  it  is  a  long  time  since  I  have  seen 
you.  I  have  heard  of  you,  though,  my  boy,  and  I  am  glad 
to  hear  you  are  doing  so  well." 

"  Yes,  uncle,  I  have  not  troubled  you  very  often  ;  but  I 
have  come  to  ask  a  favor  of  you  just  now.  I  suppose  you 
know  that  my  firm  is  dissolved  ?" 

"  Why,  no  ;  you  don't  say  so.  This  is  the  first  I  have 
heard  of  it.  How  comes  that  ?  I  thought  that  you  were 
doing  very  well  indeed." 

"  And  so  we  were,  but  we  didn't  agree  very  well,"  said 
Robert,  not  at  all  desirous  of  telling  the  whole  truth  if  he 
could  avoid  it,  though  he  did  not  mean  to  tell  a  direct  false 
hood.  "  We  were  doing  very  well  indeed,  but  old  Mr. 
Henderson  is  such  a  queer  man  to  get  along  with,  and  so 
precise  in  his  ways,  he  was  all  the  tune  making  trouble 
between  us." 


UNCLE     GEOKGE.  131 

Now  that  was  a  deliberate  falsehood  ;  but  Robert  spoke 
it  rather  in  the  exuberance  of  his  imagination,  than  believing 
in  its  reality. 

"  Well,  Robert,  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?"  asked  his 
uncle,  at  tne  same  time  motioning  him  to  take  a  seat. 

"  Oh,  you  know  I  can't  be  idle,  Uncle  George.  I  can't 
afford  that ;  so  I  have  taken  another  store,  and  am  going  to 
commence  business  on  my  own  hook  at  once." 

"That's  right,  Rober^  that's  right;  I  am  glad  to  see 
that  you  don't  intend  tojremaiu  idle.  Of  course,  with  your 
experience  in  the  business,  and  large  acquaintance,  you 
can't  help  doing  well.  But  how  did  you  get  on  in  the  old 
firm  ?  I  heard  you  were  doing  a  first-rate  business." 

"And  so  we  were,  uncle — and  so  we  were,"  replied 
Robert,  rubbing  his  hands  gleefully,  at  the  very  thoughts  of 
it. 

"  What  do  you  suppose  you  made,  Robert  ?" 

"  Why,  my  share,  for  the  two  years  I  was  there,  averaged 
nearly  nine  thousand  dollars  ;"  and  as  he  spoke,  Robert  was 
ready  to  have  bitten  his  tongue  off  for  having  told  so  much 
of  the  truth,  for  he  was  sure  that  his  uncle  would  expect 
that  out  of  so  large  an  amount  he  should  have  saved  some 
thing  handsome,  and  he  was  equally  sure  that  he  would  ask 
him  how  much  he  had  saved.  Sure  enough. 

"Well,  Robert,  how  much  did  you  save  up  out  of  that, 
my  boy  ?" 

"  Why,  to  tell  the  truth,  uncle,  I  can't  say  that  I  have 
anything  of  any  great  consequence  saved.  I  bought  the 


132    THKEE  PER  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

house  I  live  in,  and  that,  with  the  furniture,  used  up  pretty 
much  all  I  had  the  first  year.  And  then  it  costs  more  to 
live  as  I  must  live  now  than  when  I  was  a  clerk." 

"  Oh  yes,  I  suppose  so,  01  course,"  said  his  uncle,  a  cloud 
passing  over  his  face.  "  What  did  you  give  for  your  house  ? 
You  have"  a  fine  one,  I  dare  say." 

"  Eleven  thousand  five  hundred  dollars,"  replied  Kobert, 
rather  proudly,  "  and  I  thinjc  I  got  a  good  bargain  at  that 
— at  least  good  judges  tell  me  so." 

"  Oh  well,  that  is  something  of  a  capital  to  start  on," 
said  his  uncle  ;  "  you  can  easily  raise  money  on  that.  Of 
course  you  paid  cash  for  it  ?" 

"  Well,  not  all,"  replied  Robert,  rather  hesitatingly,  for 
he  saw  that  the  crisis  was  approaching. 

"  Well,  how  much  did  you  pay  on  it  ?" 
f"  Three  thousand  dollars." 

"  Why,  you  don't  mean  to  say  you  have  got  a  mortgage 
of  eight  thousand  five  hundred  dollars  on  the  house  ?" 

"Yes,  uncle." 

"  What,  and  call  it  your  house  I  Why,  it  don't  belong 
to  you  at  all,  Robert,  unless,  indeed,  you  have  got  the 
money  to  pay  for  that  mortgage." 

"  Oh,  that  is  all  fixed  ;  there  will  be  no  trouble  about 
that." 

"  Well,  well,  I  suppose  you  know  what  you  are  about 
best,  Robert.  But  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?"  and  his  manner, 
as  he  asked  this  question,  convinced  Robert  that  however 

much  he  could  do,  it  was  little  enough  he  might  expect  now 

• 


UNCLE     GEOBGE.  133 

"  Why,  the  fact  is,  uncle,  I  want  some  assistance  to  start 
in  business  with.  I  don't  pretend,  of  course,  to  have  any 
claim  upon  you  ;  but  if  you  feel  that  you  could,  I  should 
really  like  that  you  should  give  me  a  start." 

"  Well,  how  much  have  you  to  begin  with,  of  your  own  1" 
said  his  uncle. 

At  this  question  Robert  stammered  and  colored,  for  it 
was  a  home  thrust,  and  he  dared  not  deceive  his  uncle,  and 
he  was  equally  afraid  to  tell  him  the  real  truth,  for  he  well 
knew  his  habits  and  principles. 

"Why,  uncle,  I  have  not  anything,  to  tell  the  truth,  of 

• 

any  consequence — not  enough,  at  all  events,  to  begin  upon 
in  a  business  by  myself." 

"Well,  you  must  have  something,"  said  his  uncle,  in  a 
tone  of  interrogation,  and  seemingly  rather  displeased  at 
Robert's  manner  of  evading  a  direct  reply.  "  You  certainly 
can't  have  spent  sixteen  or  eighteen  thousand  dollars  in  two 
years,  if  you  have  only  paid  three  thousand  dollars  on  your 
house." 

"  Yes,  but,  uncle,  I  paid  for  my  furniture,  you  know ; 
and  then,  as  a  man  in  business,  I  had  to  live  very  differently 
from  when  I  was  a  clerk.  I  suppose  I  have  been  rather 
extravagant,  and  have  not  saved  as  much  as  I  ought  to 
have  done.  But  then  you  must  make  all  allowances  for  a 
beginner." 

"  Certainly,  certainly,  Robert,"  replied  his  uncle,  with  a 
tone  of  affectionate  earnestness,  "  I  shah1  be  glad  to  know 
that  you  are  doing  well,  and  to  prove  that  I  am  interested 


134:    THREE  PEK  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

in  your  welfare,  I  will  tell  you  what  I  am  willing  to  do.  It 
is  true  I  have  not  seen  much  of  you  of  late  years,  but  I 
have  never  lost  sight  of  you,  and  shall  not  forget  that  you 
are  my  only  brother's  child.  Now  I  will  lend  you  to  begin 
with,  as  much  capital  as  you  have  to  put  in  yourself." 

Robert's  heart  sank  within  him  at  these  words,  for  he 
well  knew  that  once  his  uncle  was  informed  of  the  manner 
in  which  he  had  squandered — for  even  he  could  find  no 
other  term  for  it — all  the  promts  of  his  two  years'  business, 
and  owed  enough  to  support  him  handsomely  for  another 
year,  he  would  be  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  lend  him  a 
helping  hand.  His  ambition  was  strong,  but  his  sense  of 
honor  proved  the  stronger,  and  with  a  frankness  perhaps  to 
be  commended  under  the  circumstances,  he  said, 

"  Well,  uncle,  if  you  can't  do  more  than  that,  I  am  afraid 
it  will  be  a  long  tune  before  I  can  get  into  business." 

"  I  don't  exactly  understand  you,  Robert,"  said  his  uncle  . 
"  what  do  you  mean?" 

"Well,  I  mean  simply  this,  that  I  have  been  foolish 
enough  not  to  save  anything,  and  I  have  not  a  thousand 
dollars  of  my  own  in  the  world." 

At  these  words,  Mr.  Arnold  arose,  and  placing  his  hands 
behind  him,  approached  his  nephew  so  close  as  almost  to 
touch  him,  and  said,  with  an  air  partaking  of  astonishment, 
doubt  and  anger, 

"  You  don't  mean  to  tell  me,  Robert,  that  out  of  eighteen 
thousand  dollars  earned  in  two  years,  you  have  not  saved 
anything  ?" 


UNCLE    GEORGE.  135 

"  Oh,  yes,  uncle,"  replied  Robert,  "  I  have  my  house  to 
show,  and  my  furniture." 

"  Your  house— pshaw  1  It  is  not  your  house.  It  belongs 
to  some  other  man.  I  would  like  to  know  how  you  are 
going  to  pay  the  eight  thousand  five  hundred  dollars  which 
you  owe  on  it.  And  as  for  your  furniture,  please  to  tell 
me  what  good  that  is  going  to  do  you,  and  what  do  you 
suppose  it  would  bring  now  ?  Do  you  expect  to  go  on 
living  at  this  rate  ?  and  do  you  think  that  I  would  do  any 
thing  to  encourage  it  ?" 

"  Oh,  no,  not  at  all,  uncle,  not  at  all.  We  have  made 
up  our  minds  to  change  our  whole  course  of  living.  We 
are  going  to  retrench  and  cut  down  our  expenses." 

"  Well,  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,  for  it  is  quite  time,"  said  his 
uncle,  with  something  of  asperity  in  his  manner. 

"  I  have  partly  secured  a  store  in  Liberty  street,  and  I 
have  no  doubt  I  can  get  along  very  well.  I  am  sure  I  sold 
nearly  half  the  goods  for  the  firm  since  I  have  been  with  it, 
and  I  have  no  fear  of  the  future  if  I  can  only  once  get  under 
headway." 

"Indeed  that  is  prompt,  Robert,  and  I  hope  you  will 
not  be  disappointed.  But  I  tell  you  plainly,  you  need  not 
look  to  me  for  any  assistance.  If  you  had  told  me  that  you 
had  saved  up  ten  thousand  dollars,  yes,  or  the  half  of  it 
within  the  last  two  years,  out  of  your  large  profits,  and  had 
it  to  show,  I  should  not  have  minded  to  loan  you  as 
much  more  ;  but  I  don't  feel  like  risking  my  money  with  one 
who  don't  know  how  to  take  care  of  his  own  "better  thar 


136     THEEE  PER  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

you  do.  Now,  there's  no  use  of  talking,  Kobert,"  he  said, 
seeing  that  his  nephew  was  about  interrupting  him,  "  there  is 
no  use  of  talking  ;  you  know  me  very  well.  I  should  be  very 
glad  to  hear  of  your  doing  well,  and  should  be  equally  glad 
to  have  helped  you  ;  but  I  can't  run  any  such  risks  as  that. 
It  would  be  contrary  to  my  principles,  and  I  really  think  I 
should  be  doing  you  a  positive  injury." 

"  Then  you  can't  let  me  have  anything  to  give  me  a  start 
with  ?"  , 

"  Not  one  dollar,  young  man,"  replied  his  uncle,  with  an 
air  of  firmness,  which  Kobert  well  knew  it  would  be  an 
almost  hopeless  undertaking  to  attempt  to  overcome — "  not 
one  dollar.  If  you  have  not  learned  to  save  yet,  it  is  time 
you  began,  and  the  quicker  you  do  it,  the  better  it  will  be 
for  yourself.  Take  my  advice,  sell  your  house  and  furniture 
and  go  to  boarding.  Put  the  money  they  bring  you  into 
your  business,  and  in  a  few  years  you  will  be  independent, 
if  you  only  make  up  your  mind  to  it.  You  are  young 
enough  yet  to  begin  again,  and  your  past  experience  may 
help  you." 

Robert  feared  that  it  would  be  useless  to  argue  with  one 
so  set  in  his  opinions  as  was  his  uncle,  and  in  fact  he  had 
almost  felt  what  the  result  would  be  vhen  he  first  entered 
the  store ;  but  his  natural  buoyancy  of  disposition  led  him 
to  hope  even  against  hope,  and  he  determined  upon  one  last 
effort. 

"  You  are  right,  I  know,  Uncle  George.  I  am  fully  sen 
sible  of  the  folly  of  my  past  course,  and  have  no  ambition  to 


UNCLE     GEOEGE.  137 

continue  in  it ;  but  I  don't  want  to  receive  your  refusal  ag 
final  until  I  say  a  few  words  more. 

"You  know  that  I  ain  now  called  a  capable,  expe 
rienced,  and  excellent  salesman.  My  business  reputation 
stands  high,  and  as  yet  I  do  not  think  it  has  been  injured  by 
my  mode  of  living.  That  I  mean  to  correct  at  all  hazards, 
and  go  on  henceforward  in  a  moderate  scale. 

"  A  sudden  change,  such  as  you  advise,  might  affect  me 
so  seriously  that  it  would  take  years  to  repair  the  injury. 
Now,  all  I  ask  is  a  small  start ;  give  me  a  chance  to  do  for 
myself,  and  if  I  prove  unworthy  of  your  confidence,  or  false 
to  my  present  professions,  you  know  what  to  do.  But  don't 
let  me  break  down  in  the  very  outset  of  my  career  for  one 
fault.  You  know,  Uncle  George,  the  old  hunter  didn't 
throw  his  rifle  away  because  it  missed  fire  once  ;  he  picked 
the  flint,  and  tried  it  again.  Now,  you  have  never  tried  me. 
I  might  have  deceived  you,  and  told  you  that  I  had  ten 
thousand  dollars,  and  you  would  have  let  me  have  as  much 
yourself  Come,  please  think  it  over  once  more." 

"  I  won't  admit  that  you  are  right,  Eobert,"  said  his 
uncle,  evidently  softened,  "but  I  won't  be  the  one  to  con 
demn  you  utterly  for  one  fault.  No,  I  believe  you  feel  what 
you  say,  and  I  will  prove  to  you  that  I  am  willing  to  help 
you  on.  I  will  let  you  have  five  thousand  dollars  for  three 
years  ;  that  will  give  you  a  start  at  least." 

Robert  was  most  profuse  in  his  thanks,  and  in  his  profes 
sions  of  gratitude  for  this  timely  assistance. 

"  Where  did  you  say  you  thought  of  locating  ?"  said  his 


138    THEEE  PER   CENT.   A  MONTH. 

uncle,  as  Robert  having  drawn  up  and  signed  a  note  at 
three  years'  date,  received  his  check  for  the  five  thousand 
dollars. 

"  I  have  taken  a  store  in  Liberty  street ;  that  is,  I  have 
the  refusal  of  it,  and  now  I  will  secure  it  at  once." 

"  What  rent  do  you  pay  T1 

"  I  get  what  room  I  want  for  two  thousand  dollars." 

"  That  is  not  very  high,  considering  the  location.  Well, 
go  ahead.  I  am  sure  I  wish  you  well,  and  I  am  equally  sure 
you  can  do  well,  if  you  act  judiciously  and  discreetly. 
Remember,  you  must  be  prndent  and  economical.  Give  up 
your  high  notions  of  fashion  and  folly  for  the  present,  and  by 
the  tune  you  have  got  together  a  few  thousands  by  hard 
work,  you  won't  be  half  so  much  inclined  to  spend  them 
foolishly  as  you  are  now.  I  shall  always  take  an  interest  in 
your  welfare  so  long  as  you  deserve  it.  There,  never  mind 
any  more  thanks.  I  am  busy  now.  Go  along,  and  God 
speed  you." 

There  were  few  lighter-hearted  men  in  New  York  than 
Robert  Arnold  as  he  left  his  uncle's  store,  and  he  resolved 
that  he  would  cut  loose  at  once  from  the  trammels  of  folly 
and  extravagance  by  which  he  had  suffered  himself  to  be 
bound,  and  prove  worthy  of  his  uncle's  kindness  and  confi 
dence. 


THE    CAKPENTEB'S    WIFE  AGAIN.      13'J 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

THE   CARPENTER'S   WIFE   AGAIN. 

TURN  we  now  to  a  more  pleasant  theme  than  the  vices, 
follies  and  extravagances  of  Robert  Arnold. 

Mr.  Benson  has  gone  on  prospering  and  to  prosper.  He 
has  maintained  a  steady  course  of  industry,  fair  dealing,  and 
integrity,  and  has  never  worked  for  any  one  who  has  not 
gladly  availed  himself  a  second  time  of  his  services.  On 
every  man  having  dealings  with  him,  he  left  impressions  for 
good,  and  he  was  on  the  high  road  to  fortune. 

Fame  of  a  certain  kind  he  has  already  attained — the 
fame  of  which  he  might  justly  feel  proud — in  being  called  and 
known  as  a  just  and  honest  man,  and  he  had  obtained  a  posi 
tion  in  his  profession  of  which  many  of  more  years,  and  more 
experience  might  justly  feel  proud. 

He  lived  yet  in  his  little  cottage  in  Forty-second  street, 
for  the  party  purchasing  from  him  had  changed  his  mind  as 
to  its  present  use,  and  was  glad  to  retain  so  good  a  tenant 
at  a  mere  nominal  rent,  considering  the  price  which  he  had 
paid  for  the  ground. 


140    THREE  PEE  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

He  had  finished  the  houses  which  he  was  erecting  for  Mr. 
Arnold,  and  awaited  that  gentleman's  return  from  Europe 
to  close  the  transactions  with  him.  The  four  mouths 
appointed  for  his  absence  had  expired,  and  he  was  expected 
in  the  next  steamer,  and  sure  enough  the  next  steamer 
brought  him. 

Very  soon  after  his  arrival,  he  went  to  his  houses  to 
examine  them,  and  took  with  him  one  of  the  most  cele 
brated  builders  of  the  city,  who  not  only  could  find  no  fault 
with  them,  but  pronounced  them  built  in  the  very  best  and 
most  workmanlike  manner. 

On  his  return  to  the  store,  he  directed  one  of  his  clerks 
to  send  for  Mr.  Benson  the  next  day  ai  two  o'clock,  and  on 
the  next  day,  at  the  appointed  hour,  they  stood  again  face 
to  face. 

Mr.  Benson  had  a  roll  of  papers  under  his  arm,  and  after 
the  ordinary  compliments  of  the  day,  as  if  they  had  only 
parted  a  week  before,  Mr.  Arnold  said  abruptly,  "Well, 
Mr.  Benson,  I  have  been  up  to  look  at  those  houses." 

"  I  hope  you  like  them,  sir.  I  have  tried  to  do  justice  to 
your  good  opinion  of  me.  I  trust  you  will  have  them 
examined  by  competent  builders." 

"  I  have  done  so,  and  am  perfectly  satisfied.  Now,  how 
much  do  I  owe  you  ?" 

"  There,"  said  Mr.  Benson,  laying  his  bundle  of  papers  on 
the  desk  before  Mr.  Arnold,  "there  are  the  accounts  of 
every  dollar  I  have  expended  on  the  houses.  You  will  find 
vouchers  there  for  every  nail  in  them,  sir." 


THE    c  A  li  TENTERS    WIFE    AGAIN.        1 

"  Yes,  I  dare  say  that's  all  right,"  and  he  opened  them 
carelessly  ;  glancing  at  the  total,  he  raised  his  eyes  calmly 
to  Mr.  Benson,  and  said  very  quietly,  "  I  don't  see  any 
charges  for  your  services  here." 

"No,  I  have  not  made  any.  I  leave  that  entirely  to 
yourself,  sir." 

"  Let  me  see,"  said  Mr.  Arnold,  taking  up  a  pencil  and 
making  a  few  calculations.  "You  have  expended  some 
ten  thousand  dollars  more  than  I  find  you  have  drawn. 
Bow  did  you  get  that  ?" 

"  Mr.  Hardinan  lent  it  to  me  on  some  securities  he  holds 
of  mine." 

"Of  course  you  paid  interest  ?" 

"  Yes.  One  cannot  borrow  money  now-a-days  without 
interest." 

"  But  you  have  not  charged  any  profit  on  these  bills  ?" 
queried  Mr.  Arnold. 

"  Not  one  cent,  sir.  There  are  the  bills  for  every  piece 
of  wood,  iron,  or  stone  put  in  them  exactly  at  their  cost." 

"Well,  I  don't  expect  you  to  work  without  some  profit, 
and  you  don't  choose  to  make  any  charge  ?" 

"  None,  sir.  Do  as  you  choose,  and  if  my  work  suits 
you,  I  shall  be  happy  to  have  any  further  orders." 

"  You  may  be  sure  of  that,  Mr.  Benson.  Robert,"  he 
said  to  his  book-keeper,  "  hand  me  the  check-book  ;"  and  he 
proceeded  to  fill  up  a  check,  which  done  and  signed,  he 
handed  to  Mr.  Benson,  who,  glancing  at  it,  saw  that  it  was 
for  four  thousand  dollars  more  than  the  balance  actually 


142    THREE  PEK  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

due,  giving  him  a  handsome  profit  on  his  materials,  and  a 
compensation  equally  handsome  for  his  own  personal  super 
vision. 

It  was  more,  much  more  than  he  expected,  but  he  knew 
his  customer  so  well,  he  dared  not  remark  upon  it.  Be 
contented  himself,  therefore,  with  thanking  him  heartily  for 
his  generosity,  and  concluded  by  hoping  that  he  would 
confide  to  him  any  further  business  in  his  line  which  he 
might  have. 

"You  shall  hear  from  me  again,  Mr.  Benson.  I  am 
perfectly  satisfied  with  you,  and  your  mode  of  doing  busi 
ness." 

Mr.  Benson  took  leave  of  his  new  found  and  eccentric 
friend,  quite  at  a  loss  what  to  make  of  him,  and  wondering 
if  he  should  ever  see  him  again  ;  but  perfectly  satisfied  that 
he  had  acted  fairly,  honorably,  and  conscientiously,  and 

equally  satisfied  with  the  reward  he  had  received. 

*  *  *  *  *  * 

Mrs.  Benson  was  seated  at  the  table,  in  her  small,  but  neatly 
furnished  parlor  of  her  cottage  home  ;  the  basket  containing 
her  work  was  beside  her,  and  the  homely  character  of  the 
work  on  which  she  was  engaged  showed  the  domestic, 
industrious  housewife  ;  for,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  no 
reader  will  blush  to  read  it,  she  was  repairing  a  pair  of  her 
husband's  pantaloons.  ^^ 

Nelly  and  George  were  asleep  in  their  respective  cribs, 
and  Mrs.  Benson  was  awaiting  her  husband's  return.  The 
tea-kettle  was  simmering  in  the  kitchen,  the  table,  with  its 


THE    CARPENTER'S    WIFE    AGAIN.     143 

pure  white  cloth  and  its  equally  pure  white  china,  was 
spread. 

"  Gaily,  happily,  and  contentedly  she  was  working,  her 
thoughts  divided  between  the  loved  ones  who  were  sleeping 
\vithin  reach  of  her  anxious  ear,  and  the  loved  one,  whose 
coming  she  looked  for  with  such  fond  expectancy. 

A  rap  at  the  door — for  there  were  no  bells  in  the  house, 
aroused  her — and  pausing  in  her  work,  she  listened  to  hear 
the  footsteps  of  the  servant  who  answered  the  summons. 

In  a  few  moments,  the  door  of  the  room  in  which  she  was 
sitting  was  opened,  and  the  servant  ushered  in  a  female — a 
stranger — but  one  who,  at  the  first  glance,  commanded  her 
attention. 

"  Mrs.  Benson,  I  hope,"  said  the  visitor,  as  the  door  waa 
closed  by  the  retreating  servant. 

"  That  is  my  name,"  said  the  hostess,  dropping  her  work, 
and  looking  rather  amazedly  at  the  strange,  and  most  unex 
pected  visitor,  for  she  was  young,  decidedly  good-looking, 
and  interesting. 

"  Oh,  madam,  how  can  I  ever  thank  you,  and  your  noble, 
generous  husband  ?"  was  the  exclamation  of  the  stranger,  as 
she  rushed  forward,  and  seized  the  unresisting  hand  of  the 
astonished  Mrs.  Benson.  "  I  have  longed,  and  wished,  and 
prayed  that  I  might  see  those  to  whom  I  was  under  such 
great  obligations,  and  I  have  only  now  dared  to  call. 

"  I  see  you  do  not  know  me,"  she  continued.  "  Of  course 
you  do  not.  My  name  is  Scott — Susan  Scott." 

Without  waiting  for  further  introduction,  Mrs.  Benson  at 
once  comprehended  the  whole  object  of  this  strange  visit, 


144          THREE     PER     CENT.      A     MONTH. 

aud  the  reader  need  hardly  be  informed  as  to  the  personality 
of  Susan  Scott. 

"  Really,  Mrs.  Scott,  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  said  Mrs. 
Benson,  rising,  for  she  had  thus  far  remained  seated  in  mute 
astonishment.  "  I  am  truly  happy  to  see  you.  My  husband 
has  often  spoken  " 

"  God  bless  him  !  and  God  bless  you  1"  interrupted  the 
visitor,  for  it  was  indeed  Susan  Scott.  "  I  have  called  to 
thank  you  and  him  for  my  present  happiness.  Oh,  madam, 
how  I  do  thank  you  1" 

"  Look  here,  Susan,"  said  Mrs.  Benson,  withdrawing  her 
hand,  and  wiping  her  moistened  eyes,  for  well  she  knew  the 
history  of  that  unhappy  woman,  "  I  don't  want  any  thanks. 
If  you  want  to  make  me  very  happy,  just  sit  down,  and  let 
me  cry  for  a  few  minutes  ;"  and  sure  enough,  she  did  throw 
herself  into 'her  chair  again,  and  gave  vent  to  a  good,  hearty 
burst  of  tears. 

Mrs.  Scott  sympathized  wonderfully  with  her,  for  she 
threw  herself  upon  her  knees,  and  burying  her  face  in  the 
lap  of  Mrs.  Benson,  joined  her  in  tears  and  sobs. 

"  There — that  will  do — I  feel  better  now.  Get  up, 
Susan — do  get  up,  and  sit  down  here  by  my  side.  Oh,  I 
ain  so  glad  to  see  you  1"  and  Mrs.  Benson  gently  raised  the 
weeping,  trembling  creature,  who  seemed  helpless  for  all  but 
tears. 

"  Dear — good — kind  " 

"  H — sh — there,  stop,"  said  Mrs.  Benson,  wiping  her  eyes, 
"  are  you  really  Susan  Scott  ?  are  you  the  woman  " 

"  Yes  ;  I  am  the  happy,  grateful  wife,  of  a  happy  grateful 


THE    CARPENTER'S    WIPE    AGAIN.      145 

husband.  I  could  not  resist  the  impulse  which  brought  me 
here  to-night,  to  thank  you,  and  your  dear — kind — noble — 
generous  husband.  Oh,  madam,  what  do  we /not  owe  to 
you  !" 

"Well,  I  don't  thank  you,  Susan,  for  making  me  cry. 
And  you  are  Susan  Scott,"  and  Mrs.  Benson  pushed  back 
the  glossy  hair  from  the  fair  forehead  of  her  visitor,  and 
gazed  for  a  moment  in  silence  upon  her  eloquent  features  ; 
"and  you  are  really  Susan  Scott.  I  declare  I  almost  love 
you,  Susan." 

"  And  I  declare  that  /  do  love  you  and  yours,  with  all  my 
heart  and  soul,"  was  the  enthusiastic  reply  of  the  agitated 
woman.  "  Oh,  Mrs.  Benson  !  how  I  have  longed  to  see  you, 
and  thank  you  for  your  husband,  for  he  would  never  receive 
my  thanks,  even  while  he  must  have  known  that  my  heart 
was  overflowing  with  gratitude." 

"  Never  mind  that.  He  knows  and  feels,  and  so  do  I, 
that  he  has  only  done  as  he  would  be  done  by  ;  so  don't 
talk  of  that  any  more.  Why,  Susan,  you  are  a  beautiful 
woman,"  continued  Mrs.  Benson,  gazing  with  affectionate 
kindness  in  the  face  of  the  blushing,  excited  woman  now 
seated  by  her  side.  "  And  how  you  must  have  suffered." 

"  Oh,  madam  "— 

"  Don't  call  me  madam,  Susan.  I  love  you  already,  and 
madam  sounds  very  harshly  to  my  ears." 

"  Then,  my  angel — my  " 

"  Susan  Scott,  I  am  a  woman  as  yourself.     I  love  my 

husband  as  you  do  your  own.     I  am  only  a  loving  woman, 
10 


146    THEEE  PEK  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

I  believe  I  feel  for  the  sorrows,  and  trials,  and  troubles  of 
others,  and  I  have  felt  for  yon,  for  my  husband  has  told  me 
of  you.  Call  me  by  some  other  name.  I  am  only  such  as 
you  are,  except  that  God  has  prospered  me  above  you." 

"Mrs.  Benson,  I  called  this  evening,"  said  Mrs.  Scott, 
rising,  "  to  thank  you — to  tell  you  that  I  and  my  children 

• 

pray  for  you  nightly,  that  we  love  and  honor  your  very 
name,  and  that " 

What  she  would  have  said  was  interrupted  by  the  open 
ing  of  the  parlor  door  by  the  servant,  who  ushered  in  an 
elderly  gentleman,  a  stranger  to  both  the  inmates  of  the 
room,  but  of  whose  entrance  into  the  house  they  had  been 
entirely  ignorant,  so  deeply  engrossed  were  they  with  their 
own  thoughts  and  feelings. 

"  Mr.  Benson  is  not  in,  I  see,"  said  the  stranger,  advan 
cing  to  the  centre  of  the  room,  and  laying  his  hat  upon  the 
table  by  the  side  of  Mrs.  Benson's  work. 

"  No,  sir  ;  I  expect  him  every  moment.  Be  seated.  He 
is  generally  home  by  seven." 

"  Well,  I  will  sit  down,  as  I  came  to  see  him.  You  have 
a  nice  snug  house  here,"  he  said,  seating  himself,  and  looking 
around,  with  the  air  of  one  competent  to  pass  an  opinion, 
and  entitled  to  express  it." 

"  Large  enough  for  our  means,  and  for  our  wants,  sir," 
replied  Mrs.  Benson,  courteously.  "  We  have  a  small  family, 
and  " 

"  Don't  need  much  room,"  interrupted  the  stranger,  not 
allowing  her  to  finish  her  sentence. 


THE    CARPENTER'S   WIFE    AGAIN.     147 

"  Sit  down,  Susan,"  said  Mrs.  Benson  to  Mrs.  Scott,  who, 
on  the  advent  of  the  stranger,  had  turned  as  if  to  leave  the 
room.  "  My  husband  would  not  like  it  if  you  left  without 
seeing  him,  now  that  you  are  here." 

Mrs.  Scott  turned  to  resume  the  chair  which  she  had 
quitted  as  the  stranger  entered  the  room,  and  as  she  did  so, 
the  light  fell  full  upon  her  face. 

Starting  from  his  chair,  the  stranger  hurriedly  approached 
her,  and  laying  a  hand  upon  her  shoulder,  said,  in  tones  of 
the  deepest  emotion,  "  I  beg  your  pardon,  madam,  but  may 
I  ask  your  name  ?  You  resemble  a  friend  who  was  once 
very  dear  to  me." 

"  Susan  Scott,  sir,"  she  replied,  rising,  and  gently  remov 
ing  the  hand  from  her  shoulder. 

"  You  are  married  ?"  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  inquiry. 

"  I  am,  sir." 

"  Your  name  before  your  marriage  ?"  you  look  so  much 
like  her,  I  cannot  be  mistaken." 

"  Susan  Merton.     I  was  named  after  my  mother." 

"  I  know  it.  I  was  sure  I  could  not  be  mistaken,"  and 
the  stranger  sank  back  into  his  seat,  covering  his  face  with 
his  clasped  hands,  while  his  companions  gazed  alternately  at 
him,  and  at  "each  other,  in  mute  astonishment. 

For  a  few  moments  this  silence  was  maintained  unbroken, 
but  at  length  the  stranger  raised  his  hands  from  his  moist 
ened  eyes,  and  rising,  he  moved  towards  Mrs.  Scott,  who  sat 
shrinking  and  trembling,  lost  in  wonder  and  amazement. 

Pushing  the  hair  from  her  fair  forehead,  he  gazed  silently 


148    THREE  PEE  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

at  her  for  a  few  moments  ;  and  returning  to  his  chair,  he 
sank  rather  than  seated  himself  in  it,  and  gave  way  to  a 
burst  of  irrepressible  emotion,  while  the  females  gazed  at  him 
in  undisguised  astonishment,  thinking,  very  possibly,  that 
he  might  be  some  escaped  lunatic. 

Whatever  might  have  been  said  or  done  at  the  moment, 
was  interrupted  by  the  unannounced  entrance  of  Mr.  Benson, 
who,  as  he  caught  sight  of  his  visitor,  sprang  forward  with 
an  exhibition  of  astonishment  and  respect,  singularly 
blended,  and  said,  "  Why,  Mr.  Arnold,  I  am  very  happy  to 
see  you  in  my  house.  My  wife,  sir,"  and  he  turned  to  his 
wife,  who  was  as  much  astonished  on  hearing  the  name  of 
the  stranger,  as  her  husband  was  at  seeing  him  there,  for 
she  was  thoroughly  familiar  with  his  kindness  to,  and  confi 
dence  in  her  husband. 

"  Yes,  I  know  her.  We  have  had  quite  a  chat,  Mr.  Ben 
son,"  and  the  old  gentleman  busied  himself  in  wiping  alter 
nately  his  eyes  and  his  spectacles.  "We  know  each  other 
now  very  well — don't  we,  Mrs.  Benson  ?  I  know  you  thought 
me  an  old  fool.  Come,  tell  the  truth.  Didn't  you  think  I 
had  escaped  from  the  asylum  ?" 


UNCLE     GEORGE     FINDS     A     HOME.      14:9 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

UNCLE     GEORGE     FINDS     A    HOME. 

"No  matter  what  she  thought,  Mr.  Arnold,  as  she 
knows  who  you  are,  I  will  answer  for  what  she  thinks  now 
of  one  to  whom  we  are  under  many  and  deep  obligations." 

"  Tut,  tut  I  never  mind  that  now  ;  that  is  what  I  would  call 
bosh  from  any  one  else  ;  but  I  know  you  are  above  anything 
like  fawning  or  flattery.  I  came  here  for  a  singular  purpose, 
and  hardly  know  how  to  tell  you  what  it  was  ;  but  I  have 
been  much  surprised,  and  as  much  pleased  at  meeting  this 
young  woman.  How  did  you  come  to  know  her  ?" 

"Because  he  is  the  best  and  kindest  and  noblest  of  men,7' 
interrupted  Susan,  advancing  towards  Mr.  Arnold  and  inter 
rupting  the  reply  which  Mr.  Benson  was  about  to  make. 
"  Because  he  has  a  heart  to  feel  for  the  woes  of  others — 
because  his  hand  is  as  open  as  his  heart.  I — Vf6—  my 
husband,  my  children,  owe  to  him  under  God  all  we  have 
and  all  we  are.  But  for  him,  we  should  have  starved  u» 
death  ;  but  for  him,  my  husband  would  have  filled  a  drunk 
ard's  grave,  and  my  little  ones  with  myself  would  have 


150    THEEE  PEE  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

found  a  resting-place  in  the  Potter's-field.  He  is  an  angel 
of  goodness,  sir— an  honor  to  manhood.  It  is  the  anniver 
sary  of  my  marriage  day,  and  I  came  here  to  thank  him  and 
her  (and  she  turned  to  Mrs.  Benson),  for  making  it  so 
bright,  so  joyous,  and  so  happy." 

"  You  must  excuse  her,"  said  Mr.  Benson,  actually  blush 
ing  at  his  praises  so  eloquently  and  so  truthfully  bestowed 
by  the  earnest,  grateful  woman.  "  She  is  the  wife  of  my 
foreman,  sir,  and  thinks  she  is  under  obligations  to  me, 
because  I  did  unto  her  as  I  should  have  wished  others  to  do 
unto  mine  in  similar  circumstances." 

"  Yes,  I  see.  I  know  all  about  it  now.  And  you  are  the 
daughter  of  Susan  Merton  ?"  said  Mr.  Arnold,  advancing 
towards  Mrs.  Scott,  and  again  pushing  the  hair  from  her 
forehead.  "  You  are  very  like  her.  She  married  a  second 
tune,  did  she  not  ?" 

"Yes  sir,  and  that  was  the  cause  of  my  misfortunes  and 
unhappiness — excuse  me,  sir,  I  did  not  mean  to  speak  of 
myself." 

"  But  I  want  you  to  do  so  ;  not  now,  however — some 
other  tune.  Mf .  Benson,  you  have  not  had  your  supper  yet  ? 
I  will  join  you." 

"  With  all  my  heart.  Come,  Mary,  hurry  up.  Sit  down, 
Mr.  Arnold.  Come,  Susy,  sit  down  and  make  yourself  at 
home." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Benson  ;  not  this  time.  I  came  here 
only  to  thank  you  for — " 

"  Never  mind  now,  Susy.     I  understand  all  about  that. 


UNOI-E    GEOKGE    FINDS    A    HOME.         151 

Just  sit  down,  and  we'll  hear  that  on  your  next  marriage 
day,"  said  Mr.  Benson,  half  jocularly. 

"  I  cannot  stay.  Henry  will  wonder  where  I  am,  and  I 
must  hurry  home  to  get  his  supper  ready.  Besides,  I  have 
left  the  children  alone.  I  must  go  now,  indeed  I  must,"  she 
said  with  an  earnestness  which  showed  that  her  heart 
yearned  to  accept  the  proffered  kindness,  but  her  duty  called 
her  away. 

"  Good  night,  Susan,"  said  Mr.  Arnold,  taking  her  hand, 
and  gazing  in  her  expressive  face  with  an  earnestness  that 
caused  the  blood  to  mantle  her  cheeks,  "  I  am  glad,  very 
glad — I  am  thankful  to  have  met  you,  and  rely  upon  it,  you 
shall  hear  from  me  again." 

"  If  you  must  go,  Susan,"  said  Mrs.  Benson,  "  take  these 
to  the  children,"  and  she  handed  a  parcel  neatly  wrapped 
up  in  a  napkin.  "  Never  mind  what  it  is.  It  may  please 
them." 

"  Heaven  bless  you,  sir,"  said  the  grateful  wife,  as  with 
tearful  eyes,  she  approached  Mr.  Benson,  "  I  can  never  be 
sufficiently  grateful  for  your  boundless  kindness  to  me  and 
mine.  .1  can  only  thank  you  and  pray,  for  you.  Good 
night,"  and  drawing  her  shawl  around  her,  she  wiped  her 
streaming  eyes  with  the  corner,  and  took  her  leave  without 
daring  to  trust  herself  to  utter  further  words. 

"  Come,  Mr.  Benson,  tell  me,  how  did  you  come  across 
that  young  woman  ?  I  would  not  have  missed  seeing  her 
for  half  my  fortune.  Tell  me  what  you  know  about  her." 

"  About  her  family  or  her  circumstances  before  I  saw  her, 


152    THKEE   FEE  CENT.  A  MONTH, 

I  know  nothing  ;  but  all  I  have  seen  of  her,  justifies  my  best 
opinion  of  her  as  worthy  every  regard  and  esteem  ;"  and 
while  Mrs.  Benson  was  preparing  the  evening  meal,  her 
husband  narrated  briefly  and  with  becoming  modesty  his 
first  meeting  with  Mrs.  Scott,  his  subsequent  interest  in  her 
behalf,  and  the  happy  results  which  had  attended  his  efforts 
to  reform  the  seemingly  lost  husband. 

Mr.  Arnold's  good  sense  and  knowledge  of  human  nature, 
served  readily  to  fill  up  what  Mr.  Benson  chose  to  omit  in 
his  narrative,  and  he  felt  an  emotion  of  pride  and  pleasure 
that  he  had  been  enabled  to  serve  one  who  was  so  ready  to 
obey  the  precepts  of  the  golden  rule. 

"Now  that  we  are  alone,  and  as  Mrs.  Benson  is  not  fright 
ened  at  me,"  said  Mr.  Arnold,  when  they  were  seated  at  the 
supper-table,  "  I  will  tell  you  what  brought  me  here.  You 
know  I  am  a  bachelor,  and  have  no  relations  but  that 
extravagant  scapegrace,  my  nephew  Robert.  I  am  board 
ing  ;  I  am  tired  of  it.  It  is  a  cheerless,  lonesome  life.  1 
have  no  home,  in  truth  no  resource  but  my  own  thoughts 
for  pleasure,  and  I  want  some  change.  I  am  getting  too 
old  to  continue  in  this  mode  of  life  much  longer." 

"  I  came  up  this  evening,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  to  see  if  I 
should  like  your  wife  as  well  as  I  did  yourself  when  I  first 
saw  you,  and  if  I  did,  I  had  a  proposition  to  make  to  you. 
I  am  a  rough,  plain  speaking  man,  and  therefore,  Mrs.  Ben 
son,  let  me  say  in  my  own  way,  I  do  like  you.  I  believe 
you  every  way  worthy  of  your  husband,  and  I  could  not  pay 
you  a  higher  compliment ;  and  now  I  have  said  that,  I 


UNCLE     GEOKGE      FINDS     A     HOME.        153 

will  tell  you  the  proposition  I  wish  to  make.  It  will  add 
something  to  your  troubles  and  cares,  but  I  will  make  any 
compensation  for  that  you  may  ask.  I  want  you  to  take 
one  of  those  houses  you  have  just  finished,  Mr.  Benson.  I 
will  furnish  it — give  me  a  room,  and  let  me  feel  I  have  a 
home,  and  when  I  die  the  house  is  yours." 

"  Mr.  Arnold, v  said  his  host,  actually  crimsoning  to  the 
temples,  "  You  are  surely  not  hi  earnest.  What,  you  the 
wealthy  " 

"  Never  mind  my  wealth,  Benson.  I  can't  eat  it,  and  I 
can't  carry  it  with  me.  I  tell  you  I  am  lonesome  as  I  live 
now.  My  nephew  has  a  fine  house,  and  lives  in  splendid 
style,  but  it  is  not  a  home,  after  all,  such  as  I  want,  and 
though  he  would  be  glad  enough  to  have  me  there,  I  would 
not  go,  and  be  subject  to  the  noise,  and  bustle,  and  confu 
sion  of  his  fashionable  friends,  as  he  calls  them,  for  all  he 
will  ever  be  worth,  and  little  enough  that  will  be  if  he  don't 
carry  less  sail." 

"  But  really,  Mr.  Arnold,  I  cannot  afford  to  live  in  the 
style  suited  to  your  position." 

"  You  can  afford  to  live  in  a  style  suited  to  my  tastes,  and 
that  is  a  great  deal  better,  sir.  Come,  sir — come,  madam, 
what  do  you  say  ?" 

"  Why,  really,  Mr.  Arnold,"  said  Mrs.  Benson,  who  had 
listened  in  amazement  to  this  singular  proposition  from  one 
who,  an  hour  before,  was  an  utter  stranger  to  her,  save  as 
she  had  heard  of  him  from  her  husband,  "  I  do  not  know 


154;    THREE  PEE  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

what  to  say.  This  house  is  quite  suited  to  our  means,  and 
we  have  abundance  of  room,  if  you  are  earnest " 

"  1  never  jest,  madam,  with  those  I  esteem,"  said  Mr.  Arnold 
with  unwonted  earnestness.  "  I  am  in  earnest.  As  to  your 
means,  it  surely  won't  cost  any  more  to  live  in  one  house 
without  any  rent,  than  it  would  in  this  one  where  you  must 
pay  something.  I  don't  want  show  or  fashion  ;  I  want  com 
fort.  I  want  a  home.  I  don't  feel  towards  you  as  though  you 
were  strangers,  and  I  should  like  to  make  my  home  with 
you.  Come,  sir,  you  know  my  way  of  doing  business — yes 
01  no.  I  know  it  will  give  you  some  trouble." 

"  Yes  sir,"  said  Mr.  Benson,  promptly,  with  a  glance  at 
his  wife,  which  she  rightly  interpreted. 

"  That's  all  I  wanted.     The  matter  is  settled  then." 

"  But  what  am  I  to  do  with  this  house.  I  declare  I  shall 
leave  it  with  regret.  I  began  life  here,  and  " — — 

"  Mr.  Scott  is  a  perfectly  steady  man  now  ??;- queried  Mr. 
Arnold,  apparently  not  heeding  the  last  remark. 

"  Perfectly.  He  is  a  thoroughly  reformed  man,  and  as 
trusty  as  steel." 

"  Then  put  him  in  here,  and  I  will  pay  his  rent.  You 
need  not  look  surprised  ;  I  have  my  own  reasons,  and  should 
like  to  do  that  much  for  the  sake  of  old  memories." 

"  Certainly,  Mr.  Arnold.  But  really  I  hardly  know  how 
I  shall  feel  in  such  a  house  as  yours,  after  living  here  in  this 
dear  humble  little  cottage." 

"  Well,  you  can't  tell  till  you  try.     Now,  madam,  yon 


UNCLE    GEOEGE    FINDS    A     HOME.         155 

can  busy  yourself  in  getting  the  other  house  ready  as  soon 
as  you  choose,  and  the  quicker  you  get  in,  the  happier  you 
will  make  me.  I  long  for  a  home.  I  have  no  time  to 
attend  to  furniture.  Do  you  go  and  order  what  is  proper. 
Send  the  bills  to  me,  and  please  to  remember,  madam,  that 
I  love  comfort,  and  he  placed  a  strong  emphasis  on  the  word, 
which  Mrs.  Benson,  with  a  woman's  shrewdness,  interpreted 
as  meaning  the  opposite  of  fashion. 

"  You  know  we  have  two  children,"  said  Mrs.  Benson, 
hesitatingly,  "  and  I  am  afraid,  as  you  are  not  accustomed 
to  them,  they  may  annoy  you." 

"  What  is  a  home  without  children,  madam  ?  I  don't 
care  if  you  had  half  a  dozen." 

"  Well,  I  see  you  are  determined  to  take  your  chances, 
and  all  we  can  say  is,  that  it  will  make  us  happy  to  add  to 
your  comfort  and  pleasure." 

"  Then  that's  settled.    When  shall  we  move  in  ?" 

"  Oh,"  said  Mr.  Benson,  laughing,  "you  must  not  be  so 
impatient  for  your  comforts.  I  won't  keep  you  away  from 
them  any  longer  than  I  can  avoid,  but  you  know  women 
have  a  great  many  things  to  do  to  get  a  house  in  order. 
You  must  leave  that  to  me." 

The  evening  was  passed  in  cheerful,  pleasant  conversation, 
and  when  Mr.  Arnold  reluctantly  took  his  leave,  it  was  with 
an  impression,  that  if  any  person  could  make  a  home  happy 
for  a  lonely  old  man  like  himself,  it  would  be  the  members 
of  the  family  from  whom  he  had  just  parted. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  enter  into  a  detail  of  the  events  of 


156    THREE  PER  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

the  next  two  weeks.  Mrs.  Benson  had  her  hands  full  in 
purchasing  the  furniture,  and  getting  the  house  in  readiness 
for  occupancy,  and  Mr.  Benson,  who  never  neglected  his 
business,  found  abundant  amusement  each  evening  in  listen- 
hag  to  the  details  of  her  daily  labors  and  achievements. 

The  house  was  at  length  ready,  and  with  real  regrets  Mr. 
Benson  and  his  family  took  leave  of  the  pleasant  cottage 
which  had  been  their  happy  home  for  so  many  years,  and  it 
was  given  up  to  Scott  and  his  wife,  who  were  infinitely  sur 
prised  at  the  liberality  of  Mr.  Arnold,  but  who,  acting  under 
instructions  from  Mr.  Benson,  forbore  to  mention  to  him 
that  they  were  aware  of  his  agency  in  their  present  happi 
ness. 

Mr.  Arnold  was  duly  notified  that  his  rooms  were  ready 
for  him,  and  without  any  word,  more  than  if  he  was  leaving 
one  boarding-house  for  another,  his  trunks  were  packed,  and 
he  was  duly  installed  in  his  new  home. 

He  did  not  express  a  word  of  comment  upon  the  furniture 
of  the  house,  nor  the  arrangement  of  his  own  rooms,  but  on 
the  morning  after  he  had  occupied  them  for  the  first  time, 
when  he  came  to  the  dining-room,  where  the  morning  meal 
was  awaiting  him,  he  went  np  to  Mrs.  Benson,  and  before 
she  was  aware  of  his  intentions,  imprinted  a  hearty  kiss 
upon  her  fresh  and  glowing  cheek,  and  turning  to  her 
husband,  shook  his  hand  with  a  warmth  and  earnestness 
which  spoke  volumes.  He  was  happy,  and  heart  could  not 
wish  for  more. 


TURNING  OVER  A  NEW  LEAF.     157 


CHAPTER    XV. 

TURNING    OVER   A    NEW    LEAF. 

THE  history  of  Robert  Arnold's  career  for  the  next  two 
years  after  the  commencement  of  business  on  his  own 
account,  may  be  briefly  summed  up. 

The  store  which  he  had  taken  in  Liberty  street  was 
opened,  and  his  natural  energy  seemed  to  be  increased  by 
the  consciousness  that  he  must  now  struggle  hard  to  mam- 
tain  the  position  which,  aided  by  the  kindness  of  his  uncle, 
he  was  gradually  attaining. 

His  tact,  attention  to  business,  and  the  cautious  manner 
in  which  he  bought  and  sold,  attracted  the  notice  of  many 
with  whom  he  came  in  contact,  who  predicted  for  him  a  suc 
cessful  career,  and  he  was  gradually  but  surely  establishing  a 
credit  which  would  ensure  him  future  success,  unless  some 
untoward  and  uncontrollable  circumstances  should  arise  to 
operate  against  him. 

He  had,  though  not  without  considerable  trouble,  and 
after  several  sharp  domestic  disputes,  induced  Belle  to  con 


158    THREE   PER  CENT.   A  MONTH 

sent  to  a  marked  retrenchment  of  her  own  and  the  house 
expenses. 

The  horses  and  carriage  were  disposed  of,  and  she 
accounted  to  inquirers  for  that,  by  stating  that  since  her 
husband  had  gone  into  business  alone,  he  found  no  time  to 
use  the  horses,  and  it  was  an  useless  expense  to  keep  them 
merely  for  her  to  make  a  few  calls  or  take  an  airing. 

With  the  horses  went  the  coachman,  groom,  and  the 
expenses  attendant  upon  their  maintenance. 

The  large  amount  of  private  bills  which  both  had  incurred, 
were  arranged  by  giving  notes  at  different  periods,  and  he 
insisted  that  nothing  should  be  henceforward  purchased 
unless  it  could  be  paid  for  at  the  time. 

To  console  his  wife  for  the  sacrifices,  for  such  she  called 
them,  which  she  had  made,  he  promised  that  as  soon  as  he 
felt  that  his  business  would  allow,  he  would  restore  all  of 
which  his  necessities  compelled  him  now  to  deprive  her  ;  and 
comforting  herself  with  this  assurance,  she  submitted  with 
as  good  grace  as  she  could. 

Only  one  party  was  given  during  that  season,  and  that 
on  a  scale  of  moderation,  which  Mrs.  Arnold  thought  quite 
out  of  keeping  with  her  "  first-class  house  in  its  first-class 
neighborhood."  In  fact,  she  muttered  something  which 
sounded  very  much  like  mean — shabby — Robert,  however,  did 
not  hear  it. 

However  the  party  went  off  very  pleasantly,  and  in  due 
time  she  brought  herself  to  a  condition  of  contentment 
which  she  scarcely  thought  she  could  ever  have  attained 
under  such  great  deprivations. 


TUEJSriNG     OVEK     A.    NEW    LEAF.  159 

Robert's  uncle  heard  of  these  changes  in  his  nephew's 
course  and  mode  of  living,  and  was  glad  to  find  that  his 
promises  of  reform  were  likely  to  be  fulfilled. 

He  occasionally,  too,  heard  of  him  in  connection  with  his 
business,  and  on  all  hands  his  attention,  shrewdness,  and 
activity  were  praised. 

He  was  fast  earning  a  name  worthy  of  his  abilities,  and 
his  prospects  for  the  future  were  as  bright  as  the  most 
enthusiastic  could  have  wished. 

When  the  summer  came  on,  Belle  hinted  very  broadly  at 
the  necessity  for  a  change  of  air  for  herself  and  the  children, 
to  which  Robert  made  no  objection,  though  he  placed  a  most 
emphatic  veto  on  Saratoga,  or  any  other  fashionable  sum 
mer  resort ;  but  he  found  a  delightful  boarding-place  on  the 
banks  of  the  Hudson,  a  few  miles  from  the  city,  where  they 
passed  the  season  in  comparative  comfort,  and  returned  in 
the  fall  decidedly  improved  in  health  and  spirits. 

At  the  close  of  the  year,  his  books  showed  that  his  pru 
dence  and  good  management  had  brought  their  results,  as  he 
had  cleared  nearly  six  thousand  dollars  over  and  above  his 
annual  expenses,  and  it  was  with  an  emotion  of  honorable 
pride  he  communicated  this  to  his  uncle,  promising  that  if 
his  present  prosperity  continued,  he  would  have  no  difficulty 
in  restoring  the  five  thousand  dollars  so  generously 
advanced. 

The  old  gentleman  was  highly  delighted,  and  quite  proud 
of  his  smart,  handsome  young  nephew,  and  he  congratulated 
him  heartily,  not  only  on  the  success  which  had  attended 


160    THKEK  PER  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

his  efforts,  but  on  the  fact  that  he  had  regained  the  senses 
which  he  had  seemed  in  a  fair  way  of  losing  before. 

The  same  intelligence  communicated  to  Belle,  operated 
differently  upon  her.  Her  eyes  sparkled  with  joy,  it  is  true, 
but  it  was  because  visions  of  future  grandeur  and  extrava 
gance  were  floating  before  them.  She  saw  herself  again 
surrounded  by  all  those  appliances  of  luxury  which  had  so 
nearly  proved  fatal  to  her  husband's  character,  and  the  loss 
of  which  she  had  never  ceased  secretly  to  deplore. 

"  No,  not  yet,  Belle,"  he  said  in  answer  to  her  half-hinted 
request  for  the  carriage  and  horses.  "  Wait  a  little  while  ; 
I  have  determined  to  increase  my  business  this  spring,  and 
if  I  succeed  as  I  hope  to,  then  we  will  talk  about  it ;"  and 
Belle,  knowing  that  it  would  be  useless  to  argue  with  him 
in  his  present  state  of  mind,  contented  herself  with  the 
anticipation. 

Acting  upon  his  determination  to  increase  his  business,  he 
commenced  immediately  his  preparations  for  the  spring 
trade  upon  an  enlarged  scale. 

He  found  no  difficulty  in  making  his  purchases,  for  his 
reputation  as  an  active,  stirring  business  man,  and  his  credit 
for  promptness  now  well  established,  ensured  him  a  ready 
reception  wherever  he  went  to  buy,  and  he  opened  the  spring 
business  with  a  stock  of  goods  nearly  double  that  which  had 
been  in  his  store  at  the  same  season  of  the  previous  year. 

He  was  not  insensible  to  the  necessity  of  great  personal 
exertion,  and  not  only  did  he  give  his  own  time  and 
attention  to  his  business,  but  he  advertised  tlironghout  the 


TURNING    OVER    A    NEW    LEAF.  161 

country,  circulated  Ms  cards,  and  used  every  known  means 
to  attract  custom,  and  he  succeeded  to  such  an  extent,  that 
he  was  compelled  to  engage  the  services  ot  an  experienced 
salesman,  to  whom  he  paid  a  liberal  salary. 

The  pressure  of  customers  was  so  great,  he  could  not 
give  to  them  so  much  of  his  personal  attention  as  when  he 
was  doing  a  more  moderate  business,  and  one  consequence 
was,  that  goods  were  sold  and  delivered  without  that  close 
scrutiny  as  to  the  standing  of  his  buyers  which  he  had  been 
wont  to  exercise. 

The  close  of  the  season  showed,  however,  that  he  had  not 
miscalculated  when  he  determined  to  increase  his  business. 
He  had  sold  his  goods  at  fair  profits,  and  if  his  fall  trade 
same  up  to  the  mark  of  that  just  closed,  he  might  safely 
aiark  himself  down  for  twelve  thousand  of  clear  gain,  if  not 
more,  for  he  had  made  due  allowances  for  mistakes,  and 
doubtfuls,  which  in  the  hurry  of  business  had  escaped  Ms 
scrutiny. 

This  was  certainly  encouraging,  and  he  felt  elated  at  the 
prospects  before  him.  He  would  show  his  old  partners  that 
he  could  do  without  them  better,  perhaps,  than  they  could 
without  him,  and  as  for  "  Old  Henderson,"  he  might  pocket 
his  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  and  be  hanged — he  did  not 
want  them. 

Of  course  Belle  was  the  sharer  of  his  joyful  anticipations, 
and  she  eagerly  fanned  the  flame  of  his  ardent  hopes.  She 
had  met  two  or  three  rebuffs  from  some  of  her  quondam 

friends,    who,    now   that    she    had    dropped   her   carriage, 
11 


162    THREE  PEE  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

thought  it  their  duty  to  drop  her,  and  she  longed  for  the 
time  when  she  should  be  able  to  hold  her  head  again  as 
high  as  theirs. 

The  second  summer  came  around,  and  the  necessity  for  a 
change  of  air  was  again  urged,  and  on  this  occasion  Belle 
urgently  protested  against  being  penned  up  in  a  country 
boarding-house,  as  she  was  last  year,  without  society  of  any 
kind. 

1  It  is  a  pity,  Robert,"  she  said,  "  if  a  man  making  fifteen 
thousand  a  year — yes,  or  even  ten  thousand,  and  that  you 
know  you  are  sure  of — can't  afford  something  better  for  his 
family  than  a  farm-house.  If  you  can't  do  any  better,  very 
well,  only  say  so,  and  I  will  keep  the  children  home,  and  run 
our  chances  of  the  cholera,  or  anything  that  may  come  ;  but 
I  won't  consent  to  live  again  as  I  did  last  summer." 

"Well,  my  dear,  I  don't  want  to  he  unreasonable,"  said 
Robert  in  reply.  "  When  I  felt  that  economy  was  necessary, 
I  was  determined  to  practise  it,  and  I  did.  I  have  no 
desire  to  deprive  you  of  any  rational  pleasures,  so  far  as  I 
can  afford,  and  if  you  can  find  any  nice  place  where  you  can 
have  pleasant  society,  I  have  no  objections.  So  look  out 
for  yourself,  for  I  cannot  leave  my  business  now  to  look  for 
you." 

Belle  was  not  slow  in  acting  upon  this  hint,  and  found 
just  such  a  place  as  she  wanted  at  Cozzen's,  near  West 
Point.  There  was  the  best  of  society,  a  finely  kept  house, 
and  pure  air,  and  to  Cozzen's  the  family  went,  Robert 
coming  up  once  or  twice  in  each  week  during  the  season ; 


TURNING    OVER    A    NEW    LEAF.  1G3 

and  on  each  visit  lie  was  made  happy  in  contemplating  the 
pleasure  which  his  wife  and  children  were  enjoying,  and  gra 
tified  at  the  respect  with  which  he  was  greeted,  for  he  had 
made  himself  honored  and  respected  with  all  who  had  deal 
ings  with  him. 

On  their  return  to  the  city,  the  fall  business  was  about 
commencing,  and  Robert's  time  was  entirely  engrossed  by  it. 
His'  spring  notes  were  coming  due,  and  he  must  make 
preparations  to  meet  them,  and  accordingly  he  went  to  the 
banks  for  his  usual  accommodations.  This  course  was  rendered 
the  more  necessary  at  the  present  juncture,  as  many  of  his 
Southern  customers  upon  the  payment  of  whose  accounts  he 
had  relied  with  certainty  pleaded  the  hardness  of  the  times, 
and  requested  an  extension,  which  he  was  compelled  to  grant. 
Circumstances,  however,  had  compelled  the  banks  generally 
to  decrease  their  line  of  discounts,  and  he  was  therefore 
forced  to  go  into  Wall  street  for  aid  to  enable  him  to  meet 
his  own  notes  now  rapidly  maturing,  and  this  he  found  no 
difficulty  in  accomplishing  at  reasonable  rates,  as  his  credit 
was  unimpaired. 


164    THREE  PEK  CENT.  A  MONTH. 


CHAPTEE    XVI. 

GOING    BACKWARDS    AGAIN. 

BY  these  means  he  carried  himself  along  until  the  latter 
part  of  the  year,  but  the  relief  which  he  had  expected  from 
others  sources  was  withheld.  Others  of  his  country  custom' 
ers,  from  whom  he  had  looked  for  prompt  payment,  com 
plained  of  short  crops,  of  hard  times,  and  of  the  general 
stringency  of  the  market,  and  the  consequence  was,  that  he 
was  glad  to  receive  about  one-half  of  the  money  upon  which 
he  had  calculated,  and  take  new  notes  for  the  remainder. 

He  managed,  however,  to  weather  the  holidays  without 
serious  trouble,  and  during  the  cessation  from  business  so 
general  at  that  season  of  the  year,  he  had  ample  tune  to 
examine  into  the  condition  of  his  affairs,  and  to  determine 
upon  his  future  course. 

An  examination  of  his  books  showed  that  if  all  his 
debtors  paid  up  promptly,  he  would  clear  full  fifteen  thou 
sand  dollars  in  the  year  ;  but  as  there  were  some  to  whom 
extensions  had  been  granted,  and  who  would  probably 
require  further  time,  and  others  who  might  ask  the  same 
favor,  he  set  down  his  clear  gains  as  certain  at  twelve 


GOING     BACKWAKDS     AGAIN.  105 

thousand  dollars.  This  was  an  increase  of  four  thousand 
over  the  profits  of  the  last  year,  and  was  certainly  very 
encouraging. 

However,  of  the  twelve  thousand  he  felt  assured,  and 
it  was  a  source  of  real  pleasure  to  him  when  he  communi 
cated  to  Belle  the  success  which  had  attended  him. 

On  the  strength  of  this  information,  she  received  his  free 
consent  to  have  a  party  to  please  herself,  of  which  she 
should  have  the  entire  control  and  arrangement ;  and  when 
it  is  stated  that  it  came  fully  up  to  her  ideas  of  what  a 
party  should  be,  the  reader  may  imagine  that  it  was  in 
strong  contrast  to  the  one  given  on  the  previous  year,  and 
which  Belle  had  secretly  denounced  as  shabby  and  mean. 

The  spring  business  of  his  third  year  was  about  com 
mencing.  Some  of  his  country  notes  had  been  met — 
enough  to  enable  him  to  meet  present  obligations,  but  many 
were  unpaid,  and  there  were  several  thousands  of  his  own 
notes  for  goods  purchased  in  the  fall  approaching  maturity. 

The  stringency  of  the  money  market,  which  he  had  hoped 
would  abate,  continued — in  fact  it  rather  increased,  and 
many  of  those  with  whom  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of 
dealing  began  to  think  thaf'he  had  gone  rather  beyond  his 
depth  during  the  past  year.  Feeling  thus,  they  pushed  his 
notes,  then  nearly  due,  into  the  street,  disposing  of  them  at 
rates  which  seriously  impaired  his  credit. 

He  commenced  to  make  his  spring  purchases,  but  was 
compelled  to  buy  at  prices  which  he  knew  would  leave  him 
little  margin  for  profit.  He  could  no  longer  go  where  ho 


166  THEEE     PElt     CENT.      A     MONTH. 

chose  and  command  his  own  terms,  for  he  had  lost  much  of 
the  prestige  which  had  attended  him  for  the  last  two  years. 
Yet  he  must  have  goods,  for  his  customers  would  soon  be  in 
the  city,  and  he  hit  upon  a  plan,  which,  if  successful,  would 
relieve  him  from  his  present  embarrassment,  and  carry  him 
through  until  they  should  pay  up. 

He  purchased  an  amount  of  goods  much  larger  than  he 
had  done  the  previous  year,  and  gave  his  own  notes  at  the 
usual  terms,  viz.,  six  and  eight  months.  A  portion  of  these 
goods,  that  portion  for  which,  even  when  he  purchased,  he 
was  sure  he  could  have  no  demand,  he  shipped  to  Boston 
and  Philadelphia,  where  they  were  sold  at  auction  for  cash, 
and  the  proceeds  enabled  him  to  meet  a  part  of  his  own 
current  obligations.  There  were  still  some  for  which  pro 
vision  must  be  made  at  once,  and  his  only  resource  was,  as 
he  had  done  before,  to  make  his  own  notes,  and  have  them 
disposed  of  in  the  street. 

This  was  no  easy  matter,  for  his  creditors,  as  has  been 
said,  fearing  that  he  was  going  beyond  his  depth,  had 
ridded  themselves  of  his  notes  at  rates  which  had  seriously 
affected  his  standing  hi  the  street,  and  when  his  paper  was 
offered  there,  he  found  it  couft  only  be  sold  at  the  most 
ruinous  rates. 

He  had  sense  enough  left  not  to  accept  such  terms,  and 
he  managed  by  hypothecating  his  country  notes  received 
during  the  spring  business,  to  relieve  himself  of  many  press 
ing  liabilities,  and  thus  contrived  to  live  along  from  day  to 
day. 


GOING     BACKWARDS     AGAIN.  167 

He  bad,  it  is  true,  a  large  amount  of  country  notea 
belonging  to  him,  but  they  were  hypothecated  for  little 
more  than  half  their  face,  and  unless  they  were  promptly 
paid,,  he  would  find  himself  in  a  very  unpleasant  predica 
ment-  His  own  notes  could  only  be  disposed  of  at  ruinous 
rates,  and  to  that,  with  his  present  prospects,  he  was  deter 
mined  not  to  submit,  for  he  was  fully  sensible  that  such  a 
course  would  lead  to  inevitable  ruin. 

He  had  a  little  over  three  thousand  dollars  to  meet  in  the 
next  month,  but  how  to  meet  that  was  the  object.  The 
banks  would  afford  him  no  accommodation,  and  nearly  all 
of  his  customers'  paper  was  hypothecated.  He  had  enough 
due  him  to  ensure  him  perfect  exemption  from  trouble,  and 
handsome  profits,  so  that  if  all  his  customers  now  paid 
promptly,  and  surely  they  could  have  no  further  excuse,  his 
clear  gains  for  the  past  year  would  sum  up  over  thirteen 
thousand  dollars. 

It  was  a  very  small  sum  he  owed  now,  but  it  must  be 
met,  and  he,  met  it — How,  the  sequel  will  show. 

The  reader  will  readily  discover  that  Robert  Arnold's 
situation  was  now  very  precarious.  He  had  gone  on  thus 
far,  not  recklessly  nor  blindly,  for  he  had  carefully  calculated 
the  consequences  of  every  step  he  had  taken  to  relieve  him 
self  from  his  temporary  embarrassments.  He  had,  as  has 
been  said,  enough  due  to  him  to  pay  all  his  debts,  but  that 
depended  upon  the  integrity  or  ability  of  his  customers  to 
meet  their  obligations.  He  tried,  however,  not  to  doub; 
either,  and  assuming-  that  everything  would  turn  out  as  In 


168          THREE     PER     CJ?NT.     A     MONTH. 

wished,  he  encouraged  a  revival  of  his  old  tastes  and 
habits. 

Eesting  in  this  assurance,  he  made  few  objections  to  an 
increase  in  his  private  expenses,  so  long  as  they  were  kept 
within  his  assumed  income. 

He  half  promised  to  gratify  Belle's  longing  desire  for  the 
horses  and  carriage,  and  her  heart  was  gladdened  as  she  anti 
cipated  the  hour  when  she  could  bow  coldly  from  her  own 
carriage  to  those  who  had  given  her  the  cold  shoulder  when 
she  had  given  it  up. 

The  approach  of  the  hot  season  warned  them  that  a 
change  of  residence  was  necessary  to  health  and  comfort, 
and  it  was  determined  on. 

The  question  of  place  for  the  summer  was  discussed  on 
several  occasions,  and  much  to  Belle's  delight,  was  decided 
by  her  husband  in  favor  of  Newport.  He  had  selected  that 
spot  because  many  of  his  personal  associates  were  going 
there,  and  because  of  the  great  attractions  of  fishing,  of 
which  he  was  passionately  fond.  And  he  did  not  now  oppose 
his  wife  when  she  renewed  her  request  for  the  carriage  and 
horses.  He  himself  thought  it  would  be  a  very  stupid 
season  at  that  fashionable  place,  where  everybody  kept  their 
establishment,  if  he  had  none,  and  one  must  be  procured. 

But  ready  money  would  be  required  as  well  for  those 
wcessary  expenses,  as  for  those  of  his  family  at  Newport,  and 
that  must  be  had.  More  than  once  he  hesitated,  and  pon 
dered  in  his  own  mind  whether  he  was  pursuing  the  proper 
course.  On  the  one  hand,  he  saw  the  promise  of  large  pro 


GOING     BACKWARDS     AGAIN.  109 

fits,  and  an  income  which  would  justify,  as  he  thought,  even 
extravagant  expenditures.  On  the  other,  he  saw,  for  he 
had  experienced,  the  uncertainty  of  relying  upon  payments 
due  to  himself.  And  yet  he  had  gone  so  far,  that  retreat 
was  out  of  the  question.  He  was  even  now  involved  by  his 
large  spring  purchases  (many  of  which  he  had  disposed  of, 
it  will  be  remembered,  at  auction  in  other  cities,  for  cash,  and 
at  great  losses)  and  he  must  force  himself  through  somehow. 

The  idea  of  retrenchment  in  his  expenses  was  no  part  of 
his  creed  now.  , Everybody  (so  he  argued)  knew  that  he  had 
been  extending  his  business,  and  he  must  keep  up  appear 
ances  to  correspond.  He  had  not  forgotten  Belle's  advice 
of  old,  "  Make  people  think  you  are  rich,  and  it  is  just  as 
good  as  if  you  were,"  and  he  determined  to  act  upon  it. 

His  better  judgment  told  him  he  was  doing  wrong,  but  he 
seemed  to  have  grown  reckless  and  careless.  He  saw  that 
he  was  on  the  edge  of  a  vortex  ;  he  saw  that  he  was  being 
gradually  drawn  into  a  narrow  circle,  and  at  each  revolution 
approaching  a  point  from  which  a  retrograde  movement 
might  be  impossible.  But  he  would  wait  a  little  while — he 
would  watch,  and  when  he  found  that  he  was  going  too  fast, 
he  would  turn  and  retrace  his  steps. 

But  money  must  be  had,  and  again  resort  was  had  to 
Wall  street,  but  he  found  now  that  the  regular  brokers — 
those  who  dealt  in  good  commercial  paper — could  no  longer 
dispose  of  his  paper,  for  their  customers  were  too  well 
"  posted  up  "  to  take  anything  not  perfectly  current,  and  of 
well-established  credit. 


170    THKEE  PER  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

He  found  himself,  therefore,  under  the  necessity  of  seek 
ing  aid  from  another  class  of  men  who  called  themselves 
brokers.  Breakers  would  be  the  more  appropriate  term,  for 
they  were  as  fatal  to  the  character  and  reputation  of  a  busi 
ness  man,  as  is  the  breaker  to  the  mariner,  who  is  thrown 
upon  them  by  adverse  gales. 

But  money  must  be  had  to  meet  his  increasing  expenses, 
or,  to  speak  more  truly,  to  enable  him  to  gratify  his  growing 
tendency  to  extravagance,  and  he  found  a  convenient  ally 
in  one  who  will  be  more  fully  made  known  to  the  reader 
hereafter. 

His  own  notes,  secured  by  a  portion  of  the  country  notes 
he  still  had  on  hand,  were  placed  in  the  hands  of  his  new 
broker,  and  the  needed  sum  was  raised,  but  at  rates  which 
might  well  cause  Mr.  Arnold  to  tremble  for  his  future. 

And  he  was  now  fairly  in  the  vortex,  and  was  whirling 
around  with  such  rapidity,  he  could  see  nothing  very  dis 
tinctly,  nor  had  he  time,  even  if  he  had  the  courage,  to  look 
for  the  means  of  retracing  his  steps.  It  was  now  on — on — 
ever  on.  He  saw  plainly  enough  the  rocks  upon  which  he 
must  be  dashed  eventually,  unless  his  course  was  changed, 
but  he  seemed  to  have  lost  the  power  to  check  or  control  his 
progress. 

They  closed  the  house,  and  went  to  Newport,  where 
Robert  had  engaged  apartments  at  a  rate  which,  added  to 
his  own  and  his  wife's  personal  expenses,  would  rapidly 
exhaust  the  amount,  large  as  it  was,  which  he  had  obtained 
from  his  Wall  street  friend. 


THE      FAST     MAN     AT     NEWPOKT.  171 

It  is  not  necessary  to  dwell  upon  the  occurrences  which 
transpired  in  that  centre  of  fashion,  extravagance,  and 
folly,  but  one  incident  which  took  place,  deserves  a  mention  in 
these  pages,  as  it  proved  in  the  end  portentous  in  its  conse 
quences  to  Mr.  Arnold. 


172    THREE  PER  CENT.   A  MONTH. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE    FAST   MAN   AT    NEWPORT. 

THEY  had  been  at  the  hotel  about  four  weeks.  Mrs. 
Arnold  had  attracted  general  attention  by  the  magnificence 
and  number  of  her  dresses  ;  and  Mr.  Arnold  had,  as  was  the 
case  three  seasons  before  at  Saratoga,  earned  very  fairly  the 
title  of  a  liberal,  whole-souled  fellow.  His  horses  and  car 
riage  were  admired  by  all ;  the  parties  which  he  got  up 
were  pronounced  delightful,  and  he  was  voted  one  of  the 
lions  of  the  place. 

One  day,  as  he  was  dashing  past  the  hotel  with  his 
spirited  horses,  he  attracted  the  attention  of  a  couple  of 
gentlemen,  who  were  seated  on  the  piazza,  enjoying  their 
cigars  after  dinner. 

"  Well,  I  declare,"  exclaimed  one  of  them,  rising  suddenly 
from  his  chair,  and  straining  his  eyes  after  the  retreating 
vehicle,  "  that  is  an  elegant  establishment.  I  wonder  whose 
is  it." 

"  I  can  settle  your  wonder  very  easily,"  said  his  compa 
nion,  who  was  no  other  than  Mr.  Henderson,  his  quondam 


THE     FAST     MAN     AT     NEWPOKT.          173 

special  partner.  "  I  ought  to  know  Mm.  I  saw  him  at 
Saratoga  two  seasons  ago,  and  he  cut  just  such  a  dash  there. 
At  that  time,  he  was  the  most  extravagant  man  in  the 
place." 

"  You  know  him  then  ?" 

"  I  think  I  do  to  some  purpose.  Why  I  had  twenty-five 
thousand  dollars  as  special  partner  in  a  firm  with  which  he 
was  connected,  and  I  got  so  frightened  when  I  found  out  he 
was  living  so  fast,  I  was  glad  to  get  out  of  it." 

"  Well,  he  does  seem  to  go  rather  fast,  from  what  I  have 
noticed,  and  I  have  only  been  here  a  day  or  two.  He'll 
have  a  pretty  bill  to  pay.  Why,  his  wine  bill  will  cost  him 
more  in  a  week,  than  my  whole  expenses  for  my  family.  I 
hope  he  has  plenty  of  money." 

"  I  know  that  he  spends  plenty.  He  drew  over  eighteen 
thousand  dollars  from  our  concern  in  two  years,  and  sooner 
than  let  him  go  on  any  longer,  we  were  glad  to  throw  in  a 
thousand  that  he  had  overdrawn,  and  thought  we  had  made 
a  good  bargain  in  getting  rid  of  him  as  we  did.  Why,  that 
is  Robert  Arnold  ;  he  only  commenced  on  his  own  hook  in 
February,  a  year  ago,  and  I  declare  I  can't  see  how  he 
affords  to  live  as  he  does.  I  know  I  can't  do  it,  and 'I  don't 
think  he  can  measure  purses  with  me." 

"  You  don't  mean  Robert  Arnold  of  No. Liberty 

street  ?" 

"  I  don't  mean  anybody  else." 

A  long  whew  was  the  only  reply,  and  the  gentleman  who 
had  just  received  this  information,  excusing  himself  for  a 


174:     THKEE  PER  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

moment,  abruptly  left,  but  returned  in  a  few  minutes,  with 
out  giving  any  intimation  of  the  purpose  which  had  called 
him  away. 

"  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Henderson,"  he  resumed,  taking  his 
seat,  "  that  not  a  month  ago  I  bought  that  fellow's  paper 
nt  three  per  cent,  a  month." 

"  Well,  I  wish  you  joy  of  your  bargain." 

'•Oh,  I  shan't  lose  so  much  as  you  think  for,"  said  the 
gentleman,  with  a  low  chuckle. 

"  I'd  rather  you'd  hold  it  than  myself." 

"  I  shan't  hold  it  a  very  long  tune." 

"  You'll  have  a  nice  time  in  selling  it — I  am  glad  I  ain't 
your  broker." 

"  I  have  just  telegraphed  to  my  partner  to  sell  it  at  any 
rate.  Half  a  loaf  is  better  than  no  bread." 

"  There  are  some  I  am  afraid  who  won't  get  half  a  loaf 
one  of  these  days,  and  who  can't  afford  it  as  well  as  you 
can.  How  much  have  you  got  ?" 

"  Only  a  couple  of  thousand.  And  I  shouldn't  wonder  at 
all  if  it's  my  money  he's  using  up  so  fast  here." 

"  How  on  earth  did  you  come  to  get  hold  of  it  ?" 

"  Why,  I  thought  of  course,  that  his  uncle,  George 
Arnold,  was  behind  him." 

"  Yes,  and  so  he  is — he  is  so  far  behind  him,  I  don't  think 
he'll  ever  catch  up  with  him — George  Arnold  would  no 
more  back  that  young  spendthrift,  than  I  would.  No,  no, 
I  know  George  Arnold  too  well  for  that.  I  know  he  let 
him  have  five  thousand  to  begin  with,  but  that  is  only  a 


THE    FAST     MAN      AT     NEWPOKT.  175 

drop  in  the  bucket,  if  he  goes  on  much  longer  as  he  does 
now." 

But  how  on  earth  does  he  manage  to  cut  such  a  figure  ? 
/He  does  a  good  business,  I  heard,  and  is  called  an  active, 
enterprising,  go-ahead  fellow." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Henderson,  with  a  low,  quiet  laugh, 
"  he  does  a  smashing  business." 

"  But  how  the  deuce  can  he  live  so — he  must  have  some 
money — where  does  he  get  it  ?" 

"  From  you,  my  friend,  and  some  others  who  have  bought 
his  notes  at  three  per  cent.  Why,  man,  I  have  had  them 
offered  to  me  time  and  time  again,  for  of  late  they  are  well 
through  the  street,  but  I  wouldn't  have  touched  them  at 
any  rate  with  a  forty-foot  pole." 

"  Well,  there's  no  use  trying  to  pick  up  spilled  milk.  I 
suppose  I  must  charge  a  part  of  that  two  thousand  to  pro 
fit  and  loss." 

You  might  as  well  put  it  down  in  the  wrong  column,  for 
you'll  never  see  a  cent  of  it,  unless  your  partner  gets  rid  of 
the  notes.  Why,  sir,  he  might  be,  if  he  had  only  commor 
sense,  a  rich  man.  The  old  firm  were  doing  a  capital  business, 
and  in  a  few  years  he  might  have  been  independent — but  he 
spent  as  fast  as  he  earned,  and  a  little  faster,  and  so  we  cut 
him  loose.  For  my  part,  I  believe  if  you  sift  him  now,  you 
would  find  him  many  thousand  dollars  worse  than  nothing." 

"  Well,  all  I  have  to  say  is,  that  he  is  a  fool,  and  I  am 
nearly  related  to  him.  Why,  the  fellow  who  brought  me 
'.iis  notes  told  me  " 


LT6          THREE     PER     CENT.      A     MONTH. 

"  Oh,  I  can  tell  you  exactly  what  he  told  you,"  replied 
Mr.  Henderson,  laughingly  interrupting  him.  "  He  told  you 
that  his  Uncle  George  was  a  special  partner,  and  had  put 
in  sixty  thousand  dollars." 

"  How  on  earth  did  you  know  that  ?" 

"  Because  he  tried  the  same  game  on  me,  not  knowing 
that  I  had  been  his  special  myself." 

"  Confound  the  fellow.  But  there's  no  use  in  fretting 
about  it,  though  it  is  provoking  to  see  him  going  it  so  very 
strong  on  my  money.  And  then  that  v  ife  of  his  ;  how  she 
dresses,  and  how  she  rigs  out  those  brats  of  hers,  in  silks 
and  satins  three  or  four  times  a  day." 

"  Yes — you  know  the  old  adage — put  a  beggar  on  horse 
back,  <fec." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean." 

"  Only  that  I  knew  her  before  he  married  her.  She  was 
learning  the  dress-maker's  trade  with  the  woman  who  works 
for  my  wife,  and  I  first  saw  her  when  she  came  down  to  my 
store  one  day  with  a  bill  to  collect.  He  was  a  clerk  under 
me,  and  boarded  at  the  time  with  an  aunt  who  had  the  care 
of  him." 

"  There — that  will'  do,  Henderson — I  don't  want  to  hear 
any  more.  A  fool  and  his  money — you  know  the  rest. 
Come,  let  us  go  down  to  the  beach,"  and  the  disagreeable 
topic  was  dropped. 

Arnold,  however,  felt  the  effect  of  this,  in  one  sense,  to  an 
extent  of  which  he  was  entirely  unconscious,  for  Mr.  Robert 
son,  the  gentleman  whose  conversation  with  Mr.  Henderson 


THE     FAST     MAN     AT     NEWPORT. 

has  just  been  detailed,  repeated  it  to  his  wife,  his  wife  to  her 
friends,  and  each  friend  to  their  own  particular  intimate,  so 
that  before  many  days  had  elapsed,  he  was  known  through 
out  the  house  as  "  Three-per-cent." 

It  is  an  old  saying,  and  in  most  cases  most  true,  that 
'•  Where  ignorance  is  bliss,  'tis  folly  to  be  wise,"  but  in  the 
case  of  Robert  Arnold,  the  reverse  was  exactly  the  case.  If 
he  had  known  or  dreamed  of  the  nature  of  the  remarks 
made  upon  him  and  his  family,  and  upon  his  extravagant 
expenditures,  he  would,  hi  all  human  probability,  have 
reflected,  if  he  did  no  more.  But  fate  willed  it  otherwise, 
and  he  remained  in  blissful  ignorance  of  the  fact,  that  he 
had  become  a  by  word,  when  he  thought  he  was  the  centre 
of  attraction  and  admiration  to  the  inmates  of  the  house. 

He  was  in  the  habit  of  visiting  New  York  on  every  Satur 
day,  returning  by  the  Monday's  boat,  going  there  for  the 
purpose  of  seeing  how  matters  were  getting  on  at  home,  and 
to  protect  certain  obligations  which  matured,  generally,  as 
often  as  once  in  each  week. 

How  these  were  met,  the  reader  need  scarcely  be  told. 
New  notes  were  easily  made,  and  although  his  credit  out 
side  had  been  impaired  by  the  frequency  with  which  his 
notes  came  on  the  market,  he  managed  to  get  them  disposed 
of,  but  at  rates  which  would  have  shocked  any  but  those 
accustomed  to  the  ways  of  Wall  street,  where  almost  every 
Irian's  motto  seems  to  be,  to  keep  all  you  have  got,  and  to 
get  all  you  can. 

During  one  of  his  weekly  visits  to  the  city,  he  was  initiated 
12 


178          THBEE     PEK     CENT.      A     MONTH. 

into  a  scheme  for  making  money  rapidly,  which  seemed  so 
feasible,  and  promising  such  certain  success,  he  readily 
embarked  in  it.  This  was  the  establishment  of  an  Insurance 
company  of  which  he  was  to  be  made  one  of  the  directors. 

A  snug  party  of  twelve  met  together  in  one  of  the  par- 
Jors  of  the  Astor  House,  where,  over  a  magnificent  supper, 
the  plan  was  broached,  discussed,  and  adopted  without  one 
dissenting  voice.  By  the  means  proposed,  they  could  raise 
— but  no  matter — let  results  speak  for  themselves.  The 
reader  will  know  in  time  what  was  the  nature  of  that 
scheme,  so  cunningly  devised,  and  so  adroitly  carried  into 
execution. 

So  certain  was  Robert  of  the  success  which  must  attend 
their  magnificent  scheme,  and  he  felt  so  sure  already  of  the 
money  he  could  not  fail  to  make,  he  drew  up  a  couple  of 
extra  notes,  and  had  them  sold  at  the  old  rates,  determined 
with  the  proceeds  to  create  an  extra  sensation  at  Newport, 
before  the  season  closed,  and  he  succeeded  to  his  heart's 
content. 

Even  Belle,  used  as  she  was  to  his  lavishness  of  expendi 
ture,  and  ready  as  she  ever  was  to  give  him  due  aid  and 
encouragement  in  that  department  of  their  domestic  arrange 
ments,  had  ventured,  but  very  quietly,  to  remonstrate,  but 
he  silenced  her  at  once,  by  exhibiting  to  her  delighted 
vision,  shares  in  the  "  Moonlight  Fire  Insurance  Co.,"  to  the 
amount  of  ten  thousand  dollars  ;  and  when  he  boastmgly 
assured  her  that  every  share  was  worth  every  dollar  it  repre 
sented,  she  felt  that  Newport  was  hardly  large  enough  for 


THE     FAST     MAN     AT     NEWPORT.          179 

her  sphere  of  action,  and  longed  for  some  other  field  on 
which  she  might  achieve  new  victories. 

But  everything  must  have  an  end,  and  so  must  the  season 
at  Newport.  Ladies  who  had  spent  weeks  in  narrow,  con 
fined,  and  uncomfortable  rooms — who  had  been  seated  daily 
at  a  table  laden  down  with  show  and  cold  victuals — who 
had  sacrificed  health,  peace,  comfort,  and  in  many  cases, 
character,  for  the  sake  of  saying  they  had  passed  the  season 
at  Newport,  gladly  returned  to  their  own  homes,  half  ashamed 
of  their  folly,  yet  perfectly  ready  to  repeat  it  at  the  earliest 
opportunity  on  the  call  of  fashion. 

Mr.  Arnold  returned  to  the  city  immediately  after  the 
grand  ball,  of  which,  by  the  way,  he  was  one  of  the  mana 
gers,  as  the  newspapers  chronicled  it,  and  which  honor  cost 
him  exactly  two  hundred  and  eleven  dollars,  as  he  felt  bound 
to  give  a  supper  in  honor  of  the  event,  the  bill  of  which 
summed  up  just  those  figures. 

Business  had  not  yet  fairly  commenced  for  the  fall,  and  he 
had  a  couple  of  weeks  left  in  which  to  examine  into  the  con 
dition  of  his  affairs,  and  lay  out  his  plans  for  the  future. 

An  examination  of  his  books  showed  him,  beyond  the  pos 
sibility  of  doubt,  that  he  was  almost  hopelessly  involved. 
In  fact,  that  what  with  his  extravagant  private  expenses, 
the  enormous  amounts  he  had  paid  for  interest,  or  rather  for 
temporary  accommodations,  added  to  the  regular  and  neces 
sary  expenditures  for  his  store,  he  was  worth  nearly  thirty 
thousand  dollars  less  than  nothing. 

This  was  not  very  flattering,  but  it  might  be  worse  — at 


THREE  PEE   CENT.   A  MONTH. 

least,  so  he  argued,  though  the  reader  may  find  some  diffi 
culty  in  reaching  the  same  conclusion — and  he  determined  to 
struggle  on,  in  the  vague  and  very  faint  hope  that  he  might 
extricate  himself  from  his  present  position.  At  any  rate,  he 
was  resolved  not  to  come  down  until  he  was  obliged  to,  and 
to  hold  up  his  head  as  long  as  possible. 

An  examination  of  the  books  of  the  Moonshine  Company, 
showed  him  that  they  were  doing  a  prosperous  business — so 
prosperous,  that  if  it  were  not  for  appearance's  sake,  they 
might  declare  a  dividend  of  twenty  per  cent,  upon  the  capi 
tal  invested,  at  the  end  of  the  first  six  months,  and  the  result 
will  show  that  twice  that  rate  of  dividend  might  have  been 
declared  with  entire  propriety,  so  far  as  the  capital  was 
concerned. 

Arnold,  therefore,  with  this  stock,  naturally  found  his 
iray  into  Wall  street,  and  as  he  only  wanted  a  few  hun 
dreds  for  present  purposes,  he  found  little  difficulty  in  rais 
ing  it,  especially  as  an  examination  of  the  books,  by  those 
to  whom  application  was  made,  showed  everything  to  be  in 
a  highly  prosperous  condition. 

He  managed,  by  going  to  different  parties,  to  raise  seve 
ral  thousand  dollars  on  his  stock,  and  with  this  amount  he 
took  up  his  old  notes  as  fast  as  they  became  due,  imme 
diately,  however,  renewing  them  on  a  little  larger  scale, 
thus  gradually  increasing  each  week  the  aggregate  of  his 
indebtedness. 

Business  commenced  again,  and  with  every  prospect  of 
continued  prosperity.  Customers  flocked  hi  and  purchased 


THE     FAST     MAN     AT     NEWPORT.         181 

largely,  giving,  of  course,  their  notes,  assuring  him  at  the 
same  time  that  the  old  ones  would  be  promptly  paid  at 
maturity,  an  assertion  which  Eobert  readily  believed, 
because  he  hoped  so. 

The  second  mortgage  on  his  house  he  had  paid  off  by 
borrowing  the  money  on  his  own  notes,  and  those  of  his  cus 
tomers,  and  he  really  felt  quite  a  load  off  his  mind  when  the 
satisfaction  price  was  handed  to  him,  quite  forgetting  that 
it  had  cost  him  nearly  four  thousand  dollars  to  pay  off  the 
three  thousand  due  on  the  mortgage. 


182    THREE  TEE  CENT.  A  MONTH. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

SOME   OF  THE   CONSEQUENCES. 

IT  was  a  pleasant  morning  in  the  month  of  October,  and 
Mr.  Arnold,  who  was  again  settled  at  home  after  their 
return  from  Newport,  after  having  passed  two-thirds  of  the 
night  at  a  euchre  party,  where  he  had  lost  nearly  a  hun- 
dred  dollars,  found  himself  at  his  store  with  a  head  none  of 
cleares^  owing  to  his  late  hours,  and  the  quantity  of 
wine  he  had  drunk  the  previous  night,  and  with  a  temper 
not  at  all  unproved  by  the  losses  he  had  sustained. 

His  first  business  was  to  look  at  his  private  bill  book,  and 
he  there  found  that  he  had  over  seven  thousand  dollars  to 
meet  on  that  day,  against  which  he  had  made  no  provision. 
A  portion  of  this  amount  was  due  on  his  insurance  stock, 
and  a  portion  on  notes  hypothecated  at  three  per  cent,  a 
month,  while  there  was  over  eighteen  hundred  dollars  in  one 
note  which  must  be  taken  up. 

* 

Hastily  penning  a  note  to  the  broker  who  had  thus  far 
aided  him  through  all  his  difficulties,  or,  to  speak  more 
plainly,  who  had  aided  to  get  him  into  his  present  straits, 


SOME     OF     THE     CONSEQUENCES.          183 

. 

he  essayed  to  turn  his  attention  to  the  ordinary  business  of 
the  day. 

It  was  a  busy  day.  Customers  flocked  in-,-  and  purchased 
liberally.  His  salesmen  and  himself  had  their  hands  full, 
and  he  scarcely  knew  how  time  had  passed,  until  a  lull  in 
the  business  of  waiting  upon  customers  enabled  him  to  look 
at  his  watch,  and  to  his  surprise,  he  found  it  was  nearly  two 
o'clock  The  remembrance  of  his  engagements  for  the  day 
came  upon  him  then  with  almost  stunning  force,  and  hastily 
giving  a  few  directions  to  his  clerks,  he  hurried  into  Wall 
street  to  see  his  broker,  V;  ho,  he  doubted  not,  had  made  mat 
ters  all  right. 

Let  us  accompany  him  thither. 

Mr.  Gripe  had  located  himself  in  an  office  removed  from 
the  immediate  noise  and  bustle  of\he  "street."  In  other 

Jk  ••' 

words,  he  had  a  rear  office,  whicjgfwas  approached  through 
a  dark  and  narrow  passageway,  difficult  to  find,  and  not 
the  most  inviting  place  when  discovered.  A  single  desk, 
covered  with  loose  and  apparently  meaningless  papers,  two 
huge  wooden-bottom  arm-chairs,  and  a  small  sheet-iron  stove 
constituted  the  furniture  of  the  apartment ;  and  even  these 
could  not  be  distinguished  until*  the  visitor  had  closed  his 
eyes  for  a  few  moments,  that  he  might  accustom  them  to 
the  dim  range  of  vision  allowed  by  the  high  walls  which 
bounded  the  location  of  this  office. 

Mr.  Gripe  was  misnamed,  if  any  judgment  could  be  formed 
from  appearance.  He  was  a  pleasant,  rotund,  mild-look 
ing  man — the  very  incarnation  of  apparent  good  humor,  and 


184          THREE     PER     C  E  IS  T .     A     MONTH. 

his  readiness  to  serve  (professedly)  was  only  equalled  by  the 
deep  sympathy  he  expressed  for  the  necessities  of  those  who 
were  driven  to  seek  refuge  in  his  den,  and  aid  from  his  ready 
hand. 

It  was  two  o'clock  by  Trinity  chimes  as  Mr.  Arnold 
entered  this  place,  reeking  with  perspiration,  and  flushed 
with  excitement,  for  he  had  almost  run  every  step  of  the 
way  since  he  left  his  store.  f*  A' 

"Well,  Gripe,"  he  said,  throwing  himself  into  the  only 
vacant  chair,  and  drawing  his  handkerchief  from  his  pocket 
he  wiped  his  clammy  brow,  "  I  sjqtffJose  you  have  fixed  that 
matter  for  me?"  .~ 

"  Oh,  is  that  you»Mr.  Arnold  ?"  said  Mr.  Gripe,  coolly  lay 
ing  down  his  pen,  sfcd  very  deliberately  laying  the  blotter 
on  the  paper  on  which  he  had  been  writing,  "just  wait 
a  moment ;"  and  as  'deliberately  he  folded,  sealed,  and 
directed  the  note  he  had  just  penned.  "  Here,  John,"  and 
he  turned  as  if  to  seek  the  person  addressed.  "  Oh,  I  for 
got,"  he  said,  hi  the  same  calm  tone — "I  sent  Mm  up  to 
Henderson's.  Well,  Mr.  Arnold,  how  is  busmesSao-day  ?" 

"  Oh,  confound  business,  Gripe  !  Did,  yon  get  my  note 
this  morning  ?"  • 

"  Of  course  I  did." 

"  And  did  you  fix  those  things  up  for  me  ?"  inquired  Mr. 
Arnold,  the  perspiration  starting  again  at  every  pore,  for  he 
knew  his  customer  so  well,  he  felt  assured  that  he  had  not, 
or  that  if  he  had,  some  dreadful  shave  must  be  submitted  to 

"Eeally,  Mr.  Arnold,  I  am  afraid  I  can't  transfer  that 


SOME    OF    THE     CONSEQUENCES.  185 

loan  on  the  insurance  stock.  I  have  applied  to  two  or  three 
friends  who  generally  lend  on  that  class  of  securities,  and 
they  say  " 

"  Never  mind  what  they  say.  What  will  they  do  ?" 
exclaimed  the  almost  frenzied  merchant.  "  What  will  they 
do  ?  Come,  out  with  it  at  once.  If  you  can't  do  it,  some 
body  else  mnst,  and  if" 

"  There — there,  keep  cool  now,"  said  Gripe,  at  once  see 
ing  the  immense  advantage  which  he  possessed,  by  reason 
of  the  obvious  necessity  of  his  visitor,  and  which  he  was  not 
at  all  disposed  to  forego  ;  "I  didn't  say  I  couldn't.  .1  only 
ciaid  I  was  afraid  I  conld  not  transfer  the  loan,  for  fear  you 

would  not  submit  to  the  terms,  but  the  truth  is,  that  kind 
<f 
of  security  goes  very  hard  now-a-days.    You  know  there  have 

been  two  or  three  break-downs  among  the  new  companies, 
and  people  don't  like  to  lend  on  them,  except " 

"  Look  here,  Gripe,"  said  Mr.  Arnold  through  his  clenched 
teeth,  for  his  rage  and  excitement  together  almost  mastered 
him.  "  Say  at  once,  you  can  or  you  can't — you  will  or  you 
won't." 

"  Eeally,  Mr.  Arnold,  you  ought  not  to  talk  so  to  me.  I 
am  sure  I  have  been  faithful  anH  prompt  with  you.  I  have 
raised  money  for  you  on  collaterals  of  the  very  hardest 
kind." 

"  Yes,"  interrupted  the  desperate  man,  "  and  I  have  paid 
you  the  hardest  kind  of  rates." 

lf  That  was  not  my  fault,  Mr.  Arnold.  I  have  only  made 
my  commissions,  and  I  am  sure  I  have  worked  hard  enough 
for  them." 


186    THREE  PEE   CENT.   A  MONTH. 

"  Can  you  or  can  you  not  ?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Arnold,  rising 
and  throwing  back  his  chair  with  a  violence  which  sent  it 
against  the  wall.  "  Can  or  can  you  not  raise  the  money  I 
eent  for  this  morning  ?  I  have  one  note  of  nearly  two 
thousand  out,  which  must  be  taken  up  to-day." 

"Well,  Mr.  Arnold,"  replied  the  imperturbable  Gripe, 
whose  equanimity  of  temper  was  not  in  the  least  disturbed 
by  this  little  ebullition  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Arnold,  for  he 
had  often  witnessed  it  before  on  similar  occasions  ;~  "  I  have 
found  one  man  who  is  willing  to  advance  the  amount,  if  you 
will  pay  for  the  risk  he  runs." 

"  And  what  do  you  call  pay  ?"  said  Mr.  Arnold  through 
his  set  teeth. 

"Well,  he  is  willing  to  loan  three  thousand  on  the  six 
thousand  of  stock,  for  sixty  days,  but  he  wants  three 
hundred  dollars  for  the  money." 

Mr.  Arnold's  first  impulse  was  to  seize  the  chair  on  which 
he  had  been  seated,  and  with  it  to  batter  out  the  brains  of 
his  stoical  tormentor.  His  next  thought  was  that  such  a 
course  was  not  likely  to  extricate  him  from  his  present  diffi 
culties,  and  his  last  was  to  accept  the  offer. 

True,  it  was  perfectly  terrible — nearly  six  per  cent,  a 
month — but  then  he  had  more»at  stake  than  the  broker 
dreamed  of,  and  that  was  worth  more  to  him  than  three 
hundred  dollars. 

His  efforts  to  keep  down  the  terrible  excitement  which 
was  consuming  him,  only  made  it  the  more  apparent,  and 
Mr.  Gripe  gazed  calmly  at  him  with  his  cold  grey  eyes,  with 


SOME     OF     THE     CONSEQUENCES  187 

an  expression,  however,  of  triumph,  for  he  knew  that  his 
terms  were  accepted. 

"Let  me  see  a  moment,"  and  Mr.  Arnold  drew  up  the 
chair  which  he  had  flung  away,  and  seated  himself  at  the 
desk  by  the  side  of  his  friendly  tormentor. 

"  Here,  take  my  seat  if  you  want  to  write,"  said  Gripe, 
moving  leisurely  from  his  own  chair,  for  he  never  did  anything 
rapidly  ;  but  Arnold  was  already  seated,  and  had  begun  to 
cover  a  half-sheet  of  paper  with  figures. 

But  it  was  in  vain.  His  brain  was  whirling — he  could 
Got  calculate— he  could  scarcely  tell  what  he  was  trying  to 
do.  Money  he  must  have,  and  that  at  once,  and  where  else 
to  procure  it  he  knew  not. 

Springing  up,  he  said  with  an  air  of  forced  calmness, 
which  did  not  deceive  the  experienced  broker,  "  Well,  Gripe. 
I  must  take  it  this  tune,  but  I  promise  you  I'll  never  be 
caught  in  such  a  scrape  again.  When  I  bring  you  good 
securities,  I  don't  intend  to  pay  more  than  five  hundred  per 
cent,  after  this,"  and  he  smiled  a  ghastly  smile. 

"  As  you  choose,  Mr.  Arnold.  I  think  myself  it  is  a  ter 
rible  bargain,  but  it  is  the  best  that  I  can  do  for  you  now. 
Shall  I  tell  him  you  will  take  it  ?" 

"  Yes,  confound  him.  I  must  take  it  this  time.  But  yon 
know  I  wrote  that  I  wanted  a  couple  of  thousand  more  on 
some  notes,  until  you  can  sell  them.  Have  you  arranged 
the  loan  on  the  notes  you  have  got  out  now  ?" 

"  Yes.  I  found  a  customer  to  take  them,  but  I  will  tell 
you  what  he  wants.  He  is  willing  to  take  that  loan  at  the 


188    THREE  PER  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

same  rate  for  thirty  days,  but  he  has  only  got  uncurrent 
money,  and  you  will  have  to  pay  the  discount  on  that." 

"  Oh,  well,  I  don't  mind  that ;  after  paying  such  rates  on 
the  stock,  I  am  getting  hardened  ;  so  close  with  him.  Now 
can  I  have  a  couple  of  thousand  on  the  good  country  notes 
to-day  ?  Say  quick,  yes  or  no.  I  have  a  note  to  take  up 
to-day,  and  must  have  the  money." 

"  Perhaps  the  same  man  may  have  some  over.  I  expect 
him  every  moment — he  promised  to  be  here  at  two  o'clock, 
to  learn  your  answer." 

"  There  must  not  be  any  perhaps,  about  this,"  he-  mut 
tered  between  his  clenched  teeth.  "  Well,  I'll  wait.  I 
won't  interfere  with  your  arrangements  ;"  and  he  threw 
himself  doggedly  back  into  chair  and  counted  the  seconds, 
every  one  of  which  seemed  to  him  an  hour,  for  it  was  a  mat 
ter  of  life  or  death  with  him. 

He  remained  there  p'erhaps  three  or  four  minutes,  but 
found  the  excitement  insupportable,  and  rising,  he  moved 
towards  the  door,  saying,  "  I'll  be  back  in  ten  minutes— if 
he  is  not  here  by  that  time,  I  must  go  somewhere  else,  for 
that  money  I  must  have  to-day.  Curse  the  banks  !  I  wou- 
der  what  use  they  are  to  a  man,  anyhow.  I  sent  in  a  list 
of  paper  yesterday  as  good  as  gold,  and  they  threw  out 
every  dollar  of  it.  If  it  had  not  been  for  that  I  could  have 
got  along  well  enough.  But  there  is  no  use  in  talking  of 
that  now.  I  must  have  two  thousand  more  to-day,  and  I 
want  you  to  get  it  for  at  least  thirty  days,"  and  he  took  his 
leave  for  the  present. 


SOME    OF    THE    CONSEQUENCES.  189 

Scarcely  had  he  reached  the  street,  when  the  expected 
friend  entered  Mr.  Gripes's  office.  A  small,  pleasant-looking, 
mild-speaking  gentleman,  with  an  air  of  sanctimony  about 
him  that  imposed  confidence>  and  almost  made  one  think  it 
was  an  honor  to  use  such  a  man's  money  at  almost  any 
rate. 

He  spoke  very  slowly,  in  a  low,  half-suppressed  voice,  and 
had  a  fashion  of  prefacing  every  third  word  with  an  "ah," 
which  was  enough  to  put  an  impatient  man  upon  the  rack. 

"  Ah — Mr.  Gripe,"  he  said,  or  rather  whispered,  for  ho 
spoke  so  low  ;  "  I  could  not  get  here  before.  Has,  ah — 
has  the  party  been  in  about  that  loan  ?" 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Butman.  He  says  he  will  take  it ;  though  the 
oerms  are  dreadfully  high." 

"  Yes — ah — well.  I  can  get  that  for  my  money.  In  fact, 
ah,  I  can  make  a  similar  loan  upon,  ah,  exactly  the  same 
terms,  and  ah,  I  want  to  know  at  once.  I  don't  think,  ah, 
that  two  hundred  dollars  is,  ah,  too  much  for  the  risk.  You 
know,  ah,  Mr.  Gripe,  money  is  very  tight  now." 

"  Oh  yes,  he  will  take  it  this  time.  You  have  the  couple 
of  thousand  over  I  spoke  for  besides  this  ?" 

"  Ah,  yes,  but  I  have  partly  promised  it  at,  ah,  quarter  of 
a  dollar  a  day.  I  suppose  I  could  let  you  have  it  at  the 
same  rate.  Ah,  how  long  do  you  want  it  ?" 

"  For  thirty  days." 

"  Ah,  I  don't  like  to  let  it  lay  idle  so  long  "  (only  ninety 
odd  per  cent,  a  year).  Ah,  I  love  to  keep  my  money  mov 
ing.  Ah,  you  can  have  it  for  ten  days  at  that  rate  ;"  and 


190          THKEE     PEE     CENT.      A     MON-TH. 

he  approached  his  mouth  very  close  to  the  broker's  ear, 
lest  the  walls  should  overhear  his  words. 

"  Well,  I'll  take  it  for  ten  days,  and  by  that  time  I  can 
get  it  on  better  terms." 

"  Ah,  you  must  give  me  a  stocx  aote,  you  know." 

"  Oh  yes,  I'll  fix  that.  You  go  and  get  the  money,  and 
1  will  fix  matters  up  right.  Come,  Mr.  Butman,  it  is  after 
two  o'clock." 

"  Ah,  yes,  I  see  it  is,"  he  said,  coolly  pulling  out  his 
watch.  "  It  is  twenty  minutes  past.  I  will  be  here  in 
twenty  minutes  ;"  and  he  left  the  office  with  his  bland 
smile,  as  if  he  had  performed  an  act  of  Christian  charity, 
while  Mr.  Gripe  threw  himself  back  in  his  chair,  and  drum 
ming  upon  the  desk  with  his  fingers,  appeared  to  be 
employed  in  very  pleasant  mental  calculations,  for  a  smile 
stole  across  his  generally  impassible  features,  and  his  cold 
grey  eye  was  lighted  up  with  unwonted  animation. 

Mr.  Arnold  did  not  leave  him  long  to  his  meditations, 
but  rushed  in,  and  taking  off  his  hat,  drew  from  it  a  number 
of  notes,  which  he  held  out  before  the  broker. 

"  There,  Gripe,  there  are  the  notes — can  you  raise  me  tho 
two  thousand — yes  or  no,  quick  ?" 

"  Well,  the  party  says  he  will  let  me  have  it  for  ten 
days." 

"  Ten  days  won't  do,"  hastily  interrupted  Mr.  Arnold. 
"  Ten  days  won't  do." 

"  He  won't  lend  it  any  longer,  and  he  wants  half  a  dollar 
a  day  at  that,"  and  Mr.  Gripe  did  not  blush  at  all  as  he 


SOME     OF     THE    CONSEQUENCES.  191 


spoke,  for  lie  kue^f  his  customer,  and  had  added  the  extra 
quarter  per  day  9$  his  own  benefit,  as  he  had  the  odd  hun 
dred  on  that  other  loan. 

Hastily  pulling  out  his  watch,  Mr.  Arnold  saw  that  it  was 
half-past  two  o'clock.  The  money  must  be  had  before  three 
to  take  up  his  note,  and  clenching  his  teeth,  he  threw  the 
notes  down  upon  the  desk,  saying,  or  rather  hissing — "  Take 
it — I  will  do  it  now,  but  do  you  see  and  fix  it  up  before  the 
ten  days  are  over  at  something  like  a  decent  rate.  I  don't 
mind  being  skinned,  or  having  the  flesh  rubbed  off,  but  you 
scrape  the  bones  sometimes,  Gripe." 

"  Really,  Mr.  Arnold,  I  do  Jot  do  it.  Men  who  have 
money  won't  let  it  out  except  on  their  own  terms." 

"  Well,  hang  the  terms  now.  Will  you  Send  me  around 
a  check  before  three  o'clock  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  will,  if  I  promise — did  I  ever  deceive 
you  ?'; 

"No,  Gripe,  I  can't  say  that,  but" — he  did  not  finish 
the  sentence,  but  was  about  leaving  when  the  broker 
arrested  him,  and  placing  before  him  some  blank  stock 
notes,  said,  "  Sign  them — I  will  fill  them  in,  and  bring  you 
the  money  around  as  soon  as  the  party  comes  in." 

Arnold  did  as  he  was  requested,  and  hurried  off  to  his 
store,  immeasurably  relieved  in  having  obtained  the  needed 
money  at  any  rate,  for  it  enabled  him  to  postpone  for  a 
short  time  the  crash  which  he  could  not  but  feel  must  come 
sooner  or  later. 

Hastening  through  the  store,  he  entered  his  private  office, 


192     THEEE  PEK  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

and  threw  himself  into  a  chair,  facing  the  dock  which  hung 
in  the  extreme  end  of  the  room  between  ^^Nwndows. 

Ten  minutes  of  three,  and  the  money  had  not  yet  arrived. 
His  face  was  growing  paler  and  paler  at  every  tick  of  the 
clock — the  cold  perspiration  was  gathering  at  every  pore, 
and  his  lips  were  of  an  ashen  color.  An  agitation  which 
seemed  uncontrollable  as  it  was  terrible,  shook  his  frame,  and 
mechanically  he  drew  out  his  watch  to  compare  it  with  the 
clock.  They  were  both  alike,  so  there  could  be  no  mistake. 
The  seconds  wore  into  minutes — minutes  seemed  to  fly,  and 
the  hand  pointed  to  five  minutes  before  three,  but  the 
promised  money  had  not  reached  him. 

"He  cannot — he  dare  not.  Oh,  what  a  fool — what  a 
worse  than  fool,  I  am  !  Ah,  Gripe,  you  have  come,"  he 
exclaimed,  springing  up  as  the  door  was  opened,  and  the 
stolid  face  of  the  broker  peered  in.  "  Come  in.  Where  is 
the  money  ?  Look  at  the  clock." 

"Oh,  time  enough,"  said  the  broker  deliberately,  draw 
ing  his  long  wallet  from  the  breast  pocket  of  his  coat,  and 
opening  it,  he  displayed  a  pile  of  bills.  "  I  did  not  wish  to 
trust  to  a  check  at  so  late  an  hour,  so  I  brought  the  bills  ;" 
and  very  leisurely  he  commenced  to  take  them  from  his 
wallet,  for  the  purpose  of  counting  them. 

"  I  can't  stop  for  that  now.  See,  Gripe,  it  only  wants 
three  minutes.  How  much  is  there  here — quick  ?  I  can't 
stop  to  count  it." 

"  Eighteen  hundred  and  ninety-five — brokerage  off — arid 
I  have  the  promise  of" 


SOME    OF    THE    CONSEQUENCES.  193 


"Oh,  hang  ^romises  now.  Here,  Joseph,"  he 
exclaimed,  opejj^B^e  office  door,  and  calling  to  a  clerk 
who  had  char^^^f  the  banking  business.  "  Ran,  Joseph, 
faster  than  you  ever  ran  before.  There  are  eighteen  hun 
dred  and  ninety-five  dollars.  There  is  the  bank  notice  for 
the  note  due  to-day,  eighteen  hundred  and  sixty.  Run,  and 
don't  come  back  "without  it.  Quick,  sir  —  fly  —  you  haven't 
but  three  minutes  to  get  to  the  bank  ;"  and  he  watched  the 
exit  of  the  clerk  with  an  eagerness  which  showed  plainly 
that  he  would  gladly  have  lent  wings  to  his  tardy  feet. 

As  the  clerk  disappeared  through  the  front  door,  Mr. 
Arnold's  strength  seemed  entirely  to  forsake  him,  and  sink 
ing  into  a  chair  with  an  air  of  -exhaustion,  which  seemed 
almost  unwarrantable,  under  such  ordinary  circumstances, 
he  wiped  the  clammy  perspiration  from  his  face  and  fore 
head,  and  drew  one  long,  deep  sigh  —  it  was  a  sigh  of  relief 
—  a  sigh  which  spoke  of  a  load  removed  from  his  heart  —  a 
sigh  which  told  how  bitter  would  have  been  the  draught 
which  he  must  needs  have  drained,  had  he  not  received  the 
promised  relief. 

"  Thank  God  that  is  safe  !"  he  said,  or  rather  muttered, 
for  he  was  not  insensible  to  the  presence  of  the  ogre,  who 
stood  there  ready  to  devour  what  little  was  left  of  him. 

"  I  have  the  partial  promise,  Mr.  Arnold,"  Mr.  Gripe 
began. 

"  Mr.  Gripe,  be  pleased  not  to  say  another  word  now.  I 
don't  feel  like  saying  or  doing  anything  at  present.  The 

excitement  of  the  afternoon,  added  to  the  regular  business 
13 


THREE   PER  CENT.   A  MONTH. 


of  the  day,  has  entirely  unmannecW  tReally,  yon  must 
excuse  me.  To-morrow  I  will 'talk  a^^Bt~ to-day  I  can 
not  ;"  and  he  uttered  the  last  word  witnTJRmphasis  which 
caused  the  generally  stoical  Mr.  Gripe- to  open  his  cold  grey 
eyes  a  thousandth  part  more  than  was  natural,  and  *D  draw 
down  the  corner  of  his  mouth  with  an  expression- -which 
might  have  meant  many  things,  but  which,  as  there  VE^  no 
one  present  to  notice  or  interpret,  passed  unheeded.  &* 

"  Well,  good  day  then,  Mr.  Arnold.  I  am  gjad  you  have 
got  through  to-day  so  well.  I  hope  you  won't  leave  .it  so 
late  the  next  tune,  for  I  assure  you  I  had  ha'rd  work  to 
raise  anything  at  all." 

"  Yes — of  course — oh  yes — I  am  much  obliged,"  said  Mr. 
Arnold,  mechanically,  as  he  bowed  the  broker  out,  and 
turned  again  to  watch  the  clock. 

The  hour  of  three  had  passed  by  five  minutes,  and  Joseph 
had  not  returned.  Again  his  face  began  to  assume  the 
deadly  pallor  which  had  clothed  it  before  Mr.  Gripe  appeared 
with  the  money,  but  which  the  sight  of  the  welcome  relief 
had  chased  away  for  the  moment. 

"  He's  very  long.  I  wonder  if  he  was  late.  Oh,  if  it 
should  be — pshaw — what  a  coward  does  conscience  make  of 
one.  Ah,  here  he  comes.  Well,  did  you  get  the  note  ?"  he 
eagerly  exclaimed,  as  the  clerk  entered  the  office,  breathless 
with  haste. 

"  Yes  sir ;  here  it  is.  It  was  as  much  as  ever,  though 
The  notary  had  got  hold  of  it,  and  wanted  to  protest  it,  and  I 
had  to  stick  up  to  him  that  I  was  in  there  before  three 


SOME     OF    THE    CONSEQUENCES.  195 

o'clock.  But  I  got  it,  Mr.  Arnold,"  and  he  handed  the  note 
to  his  employer,  who  fairly  clutching  at  it,  crumpled  it 
between^  his  fingers,  and  said  hurriedly,  "Thank  you, 
Joseph  ;  it  was  well  done.  1  am  much  obliged.  Shut  the 
door  i£you  please,"  and  in  another  moment  he  was  alone. 

A  long,  deep-drawn  sigh  followed  the  closing  of  the  door 
upon  the  retiring  clerk,  and  for  a  few  moments  Mr.  Arnold 
remained  mute  and  motionless — so  motionless,  it  would  have 
seemed  to  a  casual  observer  that  life  had  passed  away. 

Slowly  arising,  he  approached  the  fire-place,  and  tearing 
up  the  note  just  handed  to  him  into  particles  as  small  as 
could  be  done,  he  threw  them  into  the  grate,  and  as  the  last 
pieces  fell  like,  small  snow-flakes  upon  the  dark  grate-pan,  he 
drew  a  long  breath,  and  exclaimed,  "  Thank  Heaven,  that  is 
out  of  the  way  1" 


196     THEEE  PEE  CENT.   A  MONTH. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

ALMOST    A     DISCOVERY. 

DURING  the  remainder  of  the  day  Mr.  Arnold  was  himself 
again.  That  note  was  out  of  the  way.  He  had  the  cer 
tainty  of  a  respite  for  ten  days,  and  as  to  the  Insurance 
Stock  and  the  notes  previously  hypothecated,  he  was  at 
present  ease. 

His  bill-book  showed  that  with  the  exception  of  the  two 
thousand  dollar  loan  just  made,  he  had  nothing  to  meet 
until  the  first  of  the  month,  for  which  he  could  not  provide 
without  extraordinary  effort. 

During  the  afternoon,  several  customers  came  in,  and  in 
the  hurry  and  bustle  of  waiting  upon  them  (for  his  necessi 
ties  compelled  him  to  dispose  of  his  goods  even  at  a  loss), 
he  forgot  the  terrible  annoyances  of  the  morning. 

But  the  day  drew  to  a  close  ;  a  hasty  glance  at  his 
books  showed  that  he  had  sold  a  fair  quantity  of  goods,  and 
to  good  customers,  and  with  a  few  brief  directions  to  his 
clerks  he  started  homewards. 

An  impulse,  as  suddenly  obeyed  as  formed,  led  him  to 


ALMOST     A     DISOOVEET.  19t 

visit  Mr.  Hardman  instead  of  going  directly  home  as  was 
his  first  intention,  and  he  wended  his  way  towards  that 
gentleman's  house. 

His  thoughts  as  he  walked  rapidly  onward  were  not  of 
the  most  pleasant  character.  He  could  not  disguise  from 
himself  the  fact  that  he  was  going  to  ruin  fast,  and  yet  he 
clung  to  the  vain  hope  that  something  might  transpire 
which  would  save  him.  He  did  not  think  of  the  ultimate 
consequences  which  a  continuance  in  his  present  course  must 
ensure.  He  did  not  think  of  the  probable — nay,  certain  loss 
of  character  and  reputation,  which  must  follow  when  his 
true  condition  was  known,  as  known  it  must  be.  He  did 
not  think  of  the  suffering  which  his  course  might  entail  on 
others.  He  thought  only  of  the  present ;  only  how  to  avoid 
present  disaster  ;  how  to  ward  off  the  blow  which  was  to 
dethrone  him  from  his  present  position  ;  for  he  thought  more 
just  now  of  that  position  than  of  character,  standing,  repu 
tation,  or  even  honor. 

He  had  reached,  as  he  vainly  thought,  an  eminence  from 
which  he  could  look  down  upon  many  who  had  formerly 
looked  down  upon  him,  little  deeming  that  they  were  gazing 
at  his  roc&eMike  flight,  and  awaiting  calmly,  but  with  cer 
tainty,  the  moment  when  he  would  come  down  a  stick. 

He  was  in  the  enjoyment  of  every  comfort  and  luxury 
which  means  could  procure.  He  had  his  elegant  house,  his 
horses  and  carriage,  his  wines,  his  dinner  and  supper  parties. 
His  home  was  the  resort  of  many  fashionable  nothings, 
whom  his  wife  had  gathered  around  her,  and  who,  while 


198     THEEE  PEE  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

they  ate  his  suppers,  drank  his  wine,  and  generously  lent 
their  aid  to  spend  his  money,  laughingly  and  heartlessly  won 
dered  how  much  longer  he  would  hold  out. 

But  he  only  saw  one  side  of  the  picture,  and  even  if  he 
could  have  reversed  and  been  compelled  to  study  it,  it  is 
doubtful  if  he  could,  in  his  present  state  of  mind,  be  brought 
to  believe  in  the  possibility  of  its  reality. 

But  he  was  at  Mr.  Hardman's  door ;  the  bell  was  rung, 
and  before  he  had  really  made  up  his  mind  as  to  the  object 
of  his  visit,  he  was  in  the  library,  in  the  presence  of  one  who 
had  ever  proved  to  be  his  best  and  truest  friend — one  who 
had  counselled  and  warned  him  against  the  career  which 
had  placed  him  in  the  position  in  which  he  now  found 
himself,  and  from  which  he  saw  no  present  hope  of  res 
cue. 

Mr.  Hardman  was  cordial  in  his  greeting  as  he  ever  was, 
for  he  was  really  interested  in,  and  strongly  attached  to  Mr. 
Arnold,  and  while  wishing  to  see  him  prosper,  had  often 
regretted  his  continuance  in  that  course,  whose  end  was  so 
surely  foreshadowed  by  his  experience. 

Robert  essayed  to  be  familiar  as  of  old,  but  there  was  a 
something  which  checked  him.  Surely  it  was  not  in  the 
manner  of  Mr.  Hardman,  for  that  had  undergone  no  change. 
It  was  perhaps  in  the  consciousness  that  he  did  not  merit  so 
kind  a  reception — that  he  was  no  longer  worthy  of  the 
warm  interest  so  often  and  so  long  manifested  by  words  and 
by  deeds. 

"  Sit  down,  Robert,  sit  down.    You  don't  call  as  often  as 


ALMOST     A     DISCOVERY.  199 

f  on  used  to.     I  have  wondered  what  has  become  of  you  of 
late,  and  my  wife  has  often  spoken  about  it." 

"  I  have  been  very  busy,  Mr.  Hardman — very  busy 
indeed." 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  so,  but  you  used  to  find  tune  to  come 
and  see  me  now  and  then,"  and  if  there  was  no  reproach  in 
his  tone,  nor  any  meant  in  the  words,  Robert  felt  that  he 
deserved  the  rebuke,  and  coloring  slightly,  he  took  the 
proffered  seat. 

"  Well,  and  how  goes  the  world  ?  Making  your  fortune, 
I  hope  r 

"Well,  working  very  hard  for  it.  I  can't  say  that  I 
have  made  one  yet,  but  I  hope  to  do  so  before  I  die." 

"  No  one  has  a  better  chance  than  yourself.  Young, 
active,  energetic,  and  well  posted  up.  How  do  you  get  on 
alone  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  have  no  cause  of  complaint.  I  sell  as  much 
as  I  expected  to,  but  times  are  hard — money  is  very 
tight." 

"  Not  so  very  hard  after  all,  young  man.  Only  get 
a  few  thousands  ahead,  and  you  may  laugh  at  hard 
tunes." 

"  But  I  have  not  got  that  far.  My  thousands  have  got 
to  come  yet.  The  banks  won't  do  anything  for  a  man  now- 
a-days." 

"  Yes,  they  will  for  any  legitimate  business  operation,  but. 
they  won't  risk  other  people's  money  on  idle  speculations,  or 


200     THREE  PEE  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

lend  it  to  careless,  extravagant,  thoughtless  men.  I  know 
I  wouldn't  if  I  was  president  of  any  bank." 

Robert  winced  a  little  under  this  remark,  but  made  no 
comment.  "  I  had  to  raise  some  money  to-day,  and  the 
rates  were  perfectly  awful,"  he  said. 

"  But  you  had  no  business  to  pay  awful  rates.  What 
business  have  you  to  want  money  ?  You  know  your  busi 
ness,  and  you  have  no  right  to  go  beyond  your  means  to 
meet  your  obligations. 

For  a  few  moments  Robert  Arnold  remained  silent.  He 
was  debating  in  his  own  mind  whether  he  should  or  not 
open  to  his  friend  his  true  condition.  He  weighed  rapidly 
the  pros  and  cons,  and  his  decision  was  formed  by  the 
remembrance  of  the  last  conversation  had  in  that  very  room, 
when  Mr.  Hardman  had  counselled  him  not  to  enter  upon 
his  present  business. 

Restraining  himself,  therefore,  though  his  conscience 
chided  him  for  having  anything  which  he  wished  to  conceal 
from  so  true  and  kind  a  friend,  he  changed  the  conversation 
by  remarking  upon  a  failure  which  had  occurred  that  day, 
and  which  had  been  pretty  freely  canvassed  in  mercantile 
circles. 

"  I  only  wonder  they  did  not  fail  long  ago,"  was  the  cool 
remark  of  Mr.  Hardman.  "No  man  can  do  business  honor 
ably  or  honestly,  who  continues  to  borrow  money  as  they 
did,  at  two  and  three  per  cent,  a  month.  No.  business  in 
the  city  can  stand  such  rates." 

Robert  winced  again  under  this  rebuke,  for  two  or  three 


ALMOST      A    DISCOVERY.  201 

per  cent,  was  a  trifle  compared  with  what  he  had  been  pay 
ing  for  months  past,  to  which  Mr.  Gripe's  books  as  well  as 
his  own  could  testify. 

"  I  knew  they  were  on  their  last  legs  some  time  ago, 
and  I  only  wonder  that  they  held  out  as  long  as  they 
did." 

"  Have  you  any  of  their  paper  ?" 

"  Only  a  trifle — but  it  is  so  strongly  endorsed,  I  shall  not 
lose  anything.  By-the-w,ay,  Eobert,  I  saw  a  piece  of  yours 
sometime  ago,  but  I  did  not  buy  it.  It  had  your  uncle's 
endorsement,  and  I  was  rather  surprised  to  see  it  in  the 
street,  as  I  know  he  is  very  particular  about  that." 

As  Mr.  Hardman  uttered  these  words,  Robert  felt  a  sink 
ing  sensation  come  over  him.  He  grew  pale — a  cold  perspi 
ration  started  at  every  pore,  and  he  sank  back  hi  his  chair, 
perfectly  powerless  to  move  or  speak. 

"  What's  the  matter,  man  ?"  said  Mr.  Hardman,  whose 
notice  this  sudden  change  had  not  failed  to  attract. 

"  Nothing,  nothing,"  said  Robert,  forcing  himself  into 
composure.  "  I  have  been  very  busy  all  day — so  busy  I 
have  not  eaten  or  drank  a  mouthful,  and  I  suppose  that  has 
made  me  faint." 

"  Well,  we'll  have  tea  directly.  Come  down,  and  we  will 
try  to  find  something  substantial  for  you." 

"  No,  no,  thank  you,  I  must  get  home.  I  want  resfc 
and  quiet,  and  I  had  better  get  off  at  once.  I  just  dropped 
in  to  see  how  you  all  were.  Mr.  Hardman,"  said  Robert 
suddenly  starting  up,  and  speaking  with  an  earnestness 


202    THKEE   PER  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

entirely  uncalled  for  by  the  occasion  ;  "  I  want  you  to  do 
me  a  favor — will  you  ?" 

"  Let  me  know  what  it  is  first.  I  never  make  blind 
promises.1' 

"  Don't  let  my  uncle  know  that  you  saw  that  note.  I 
would  not  have  him  know  that  I  had  " 

"  Oh,  I  can  grant  that  very  readily,"  replied  Mr.  Hard- 
man,  with  a  smile.  "  In  the  first  place,  I  seldom  mention 
to  any  one  that  I  have  seen  their  paper.  And  in  the  next 
place,  I  rather  think  it  is  lodged  in  the  bank  for  collection. 
It  was  in  good  hands,  I  promise  that.  I  should  not  have 
thought  of  it  again  if  it  was  not  for  seeing  you  now,  and  I 
should  not  have  mentioned  such  a  thing  to  any  one  but  you. 
So  make  your  mind  easy  on  that  score.  I  suppose  you  did 
not  wish  him  to  know  that  his  name  was  on  the  street." 

"Exactly,"  said  Eobert,  brightening  up  at  the  sugges 
tion. 

"  Well,  you  need  not  give  yourself  any  uneasiness.  He 
will  never  hear  of  it  unless  you  don't  pay." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Hardman,  thank  you.  I  am  really 
obliged  to  you,"  said  Robert,  with  warmth,  and  seizing  his 
friend's  hand,  he  pressed  it  fervently  as  he  bade  him  good 
night. 

As  he  reached  the  street,  and  the  door  of  his  friend's 
mansion  was  closed  upon  him,  Robert  drew  a  long  breath. 
Taking  off  his  hat,  he  wiped  his  brow  and  face,  which  were 
reeking  with  perspiration,  and  muttered,  "  Thank  Heaven, 
that's  safe." 


ALMOST     A     DISCOVERY.  203 

He  had  intended  when  he  found  himself  in  the  presence 
of  his  kind  friend,  to  tell  him  all — to  lay  open  his  whole 
soul,  and  asking  his  advice  to  follow  it  faithfully.  But  he 
was  weak  and  vacillating,  and  a  single  allusion  to  circum 
stances  parallel  to  his  own,  and  which  Mr.  Hardman  had  so 
openly  condemned,  changed  at  once  the  current  of  his 
thoughts  and  his  good  resolutions. 


204:     THREE  PER  CENT.  A  MONTH. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

APPROACHING     A     CRISIS. 

THE  day  just  passed  had  been  one  of  terrible  and  unwonted 
excitement  to  Robert  Arnold.  He  had  been  on  the  very 
yerge  of  ruin,  and  had  escaped  by  the  merest  chance.  But 
he  had  escaped  for  the  present,  and  a  feeling  of  thankfulness 
was  mingled  with  one  of  sadness  as  he  thought  of  the  dark 
future  which  was  before  him,  for,  turn  which  way  he  would, 
ruin  stared  him  in  the  face. 

He  might  ward  it  off  for  a  few  months — nay,  he  must 
keep  it  off  for  a  tune,  at  any  and  every  cost,  but  that  it 
must  come,  he  knew  and  felt  as  certainly  as  he  knew  that 
he  was  living  and  breathing  then.  He  knew  what  he  ought 
to  do,  but  he  dared  not.  He  had  not  the  moral  courage  to 
anticipate  the  blow  which  must  fall  and  thus  break  half  its 
force. 

But  this  is  anticipating. 

Robert  reached  his  home  weary  and  exhausted  in  body 
and  mind,  and  longing  for  rest.  Not  that  he  wanted  to 
think,  for  he  could  quote  with  deep  feeling  those  expressive 
lines, 


APPROACHING     A     CRISIS.  205 

"  Why  must  I  think  when  no  thought 
Brings  me  comfort  f " 

As  he  ascended  the  steps  of  his  house,  the  sound  of  music 
and  laughter  grated  harshly  on  his  ears — for  he  was  in  no 
mood  for  enjoyment  of  any  kind,  and  he  stole  quietly  in  with 
his  night-key,  intending  to  proceed  unobserved  directly  to 
his  library,  which  was  on  the  second  floor. 

In  this,  however,  he  was  foiled,  for  one  of  his  guests 
caught  sight  of  him  as  he  passed  the  parlor  door,  and  the 
word  at  once  passing  that  he  had  arrived,  the  whole  party 
flocked  out  to  greet  him. 

In  a  moment  he  was  surrounded  by  a  bevy  of  fair  frivolous 
girls  and  matrons,  neighbors  and  acquaintances  of  his  wife, 
who  by  concert  had  met  on  that  evening,  the  first  since 
their  return  to  the  city,  to  talk  over  their  fortunes  and  mis 
fortunes,  the  conquests  which  had  been  made,  and  those 
which  had  been  attempted  and  had  failed,  at  the  Springs. 
Newport,  and  the  other  fashionable  places  of  resort. 

His  natural  fondness  for  society  and  its  foolish  dissipa 
tions,  soon  gained  its  wonted  ascendency,  and  in  the  presence 
of  the  gay  and  laughing  throng,  he  gladly  forgot  the  cares, 
troubles  and  vexations  of  the  day. 

Of  course  refreshments  must  be  provided  for  the  company, 
which  by  ten  o'clock  had  been  swelled  to  nearly  thrice  the 
number  of  those  whom  he  had  first  met,  by  the  advent  of 
husbands,  brothers,  lovers  and  friends,  and  he  was  again 
lost  in  the  giddy  maze  of  pleasure. 

Supper,  wine  and  cards  followed,  of  course,  and  at  one 


206          THBkE     PER     CENT.     A     MONTH. 

o'clock,  the  impromptu  party  broke  up,  each  one  declaring 
they  had  never  passed  a  more  delightful  evening. 

When  they  had  all  departed,  Belle  and  Robert  were  left 
alone  in  their  beautiful  parlor,  .and  as  he  looked  around 
upon  the  luxury  which  surrounded  him — upon  the  gorgeous 
furniture  —the  brilliant  mirrors — the  gay  ensemble,  he  sighed 
as  the  thought  crossed  him  that  he  might  not  enjoy  them 
much  longer. 

In  fact,  he  had  enjoyed  them  so  long,  he  had  lived  so 
long  in  this  false  but  pleasant  position,  he  felt  that  its  con 
tinuance  was  his  right,  and  even  with  the  certainty  of  his 
true  position  staring  him  in  the  face,  he  could  not  bring  his 
mind  to  make  a  voluntary  surrender  of  it — no,  not  even  to 
preserve  bis  character  and  reputation. 

He  did  venture  upon  a  faint  effort  to  induce  his  wife  to 
listen  to  him,  and  consent  to  forego  some  of  their  expensive 
pleasures,  but  she  silenced  him  by  reminding  him  that  he 
had  first  renewed  the  career  of  pleasure  upoil  which  they 
had  again  entered.  She  knew  him  better  than  he  did 
himself ;  he  was  only  in  the  dumps  now,  because  something 
had  gone  wrong  down  town,  and  she  had  heard  that  so 
often,  she  laughingly  wished  he  would  find  something  else  to 
talk  about. 

Robert  sighed,  but  made  no  reply  ;  he  had  none  to  make. 
He  had  first  encouraged  a  renewal  of  these  habits  of  extra 
vagance  and  dissipation,  which  they  had  once  abandoned, 
and  he  felt  that  he  had  done  quite  as  much  to  condemn  as 
herself. 


APPROACHING      A      CRISIS.  207 

He  had  intended  when  he  left  Mr.  Hardman's  to  acquaint 
his  wife  with  his  true  position,  and  insist  upon  an  immediate 
change  in  their  mode  of  living.  But  he  had  not  yet  fully 
made  up  his  own  mind  at  what  point  to  begin  that  change, 

€> 

and  therefore  he  did  not  propose  it  at  all  at  present. 

The  next  morning,  at  an  early  hour,  Mr.  Arnold  was 
closeted  with  his  friend  Gripe.  The  purpose  of  the  early 
visit  was  to  arrange  beforehand  for  the  taking  up  of  the 
loan  of  two  thousand  dollars,  made  on  the  previous  day,  for 
ten  days,  either  by  a  sale  of  the  notes,  by  transferring  the 
loan  to  some  one  who  would  carry  it  for  thirty  days,  or  by 
raising  money  on  some  other  collaterals. 

"  Now,  Gripe,"  said  Mr.  Arnold,  as  he  threw  himself  into 
the  only  vacant  chair,  "  you  did  not  do  the  fair  thing  by  me 
yesterday  ;  you  kept  me  till  the  last  moment,  and  then 
squeezed  the  very  blood  out  of  me.  Now,  that  was  not 
exactly  fair,  considering  how  much  you  have  made  out  of  me 
already." 

"  Keally,  Mr.  Arnold,  that  is  not  exactly  the  fair  thing  on 
your  part.  I  have  never  made  a  dollar  out  of  you  except  in 
the  regular  way  ;"  and, Mr.  Gripe  spoke  with  such  earnest 
simplicity — with. such  an  air  of  injured  innocence  (and  did 
not  blush  at  all),  Mr.  Arnold  was  more  than  half  inclined  to 
believe  him  ;  but  whether  he  did  or  not,  he  thought  it  best 
not  to  exhibit  any  doubts  as  to  his  integrity  just  now,  as  his 
further  services  were  urgently  required. 

"  Well,  I  dare  say  ;  but  even  then  you  have  made  a  leetk 
something,"  and  he  playfully  poked  the  broker  in  the  ribs. 


208    THREE  PER  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

"  Of  course,  I  couldn't  vrork  for  nothing  ;  but  there  is  one 
thing  I  can  say,  I  never  disappointed  you  when  you  relied 
opon  me,  and  you  have  made  some  pretty  loud  calls.  But 
come,  what  can  I  do  now  ?" 

"  You  must  arrange  for  that  two  thousand  ahead,  and  not 
exact  such  awful  shaves.  Those  notes  I  gave  you  were  as 
good  as  gold." 

"  Have  you  any  more  of  that  Insurance  stock  ?" 

"  Not  a  dollar.     It  is  all  hypothecated." 

"  Better  keep  it  there,"  said  Mr.  Gripe,  with  a  quiet  but 
very  meaning  smile. 

"  I  don't  exactly  understand  you,  Gripe." 

"  Well,  you  will  before  many  weeks  are  over.  I  can  only 
tell  you,  you  made  a  mighty  good  loan  on  that  yesterday, 
even  at  three  hundred  for  the  sixty  days." 

"  Go  on  ;  there's  something  behind — out  with  it,  Gripe." 

"  Well,  to  tell  the  truth  (and  Mr.  Arnold  laughed  at  the 
possibility  of  such  a  thing)  I  smelled  out  a  very  large  rat 
this  morning,  Arnold.  It's  bogus  from  top  to  bottom 
What  did  you  pay  for  your  stock  ?" 

"  Par,  of  course.     I  gave  my  notes  at  twelve  months." 

"  Oh  well,  you  are  not  so  badly  off  after  all,  if  you  only 
gave  your  notes  ;"  and  Mr.  Arnold's  eyes  opened  very 
perceptibly  at  this  gentle  insinuation,  but  he  forbore  to 
notice  it. 

"  Now,  as  to  your  notes,  I  have  a  plan  in  my  head  which 
I  think  I  can  carry  out.  I  think  I  know  a  party  who  has 
influence  in  two  or  three  country  banks.  If  I  can  get  him 


APPROACHING     A     CRISIS.  209 

to  have  them  discounted  (of  course  you'll  endorse  them)  and 
get  the  proceeds  in  country  bills,  you  can  easily  borrow  on 
the  bills,  for  thirty  or  sixty  days." 

"  But  why  not  sell  them  outright,  at  a  quarter,  the  regu 
lar  discount  ?"  interrupted  Robert,  who  had  jumped  at  the 
idea. 

"  Oh  no,  they  won't  allow  that,  because  they  would  go 
directly  back  to  the  bank,  and  be  called  for  in  specie.  No, 
these  banks  discount  for  city  customers,  on  condition  that 
they  keep  the  bills  in  circulation  for  a  certain  number  of 
days.  I  do  that  every  week,  and  if  your  paper  is  good, 
there  is  no  difficulty  about  it." 

"  Well,  see  your  man,  and  let  me  know  what  arrange 
ment  you  can  make.  Do  the  best  you  can,  and  get  me  over 
November,  as  after  that,  I  guess  I  can  take  care  of  myself  for 
a  time.  When  will  you  let  me  know  ?" 

"  During  the  day  or  to-morrow.  My  party  comes  in  town 
almost  every  day,  and  calls  to  see  me  as  regularly  as  he 
comes  in." 

"  Then  I  wjjl  see  you  to-morrow,  and  don't  fail,  for  I 
want  to  feel  easy  for  at  least  sixty  days,  if  possible.  The 
other  loans  of  thirty  days  I  suppose  you  can  easily  arrange 
Some  of  the  notes  come  due  soon,  and  when  your  party  sees 
that  they  are  paid,  he  will,  no  doubt,  be  willing  to  continue 
it  at  such  rates." 

"  Sufficient  unto  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof,"  said  Mr. 
Gripe  ;  and  Arnold  could  not  help  recalling  very  indistinctly 
a  passage  he  had  somewhere  read  about  the  devil  quoting 
Scripture  •> 1 


210    THREE  PER  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

Not  ten  minutes  after  they  separated,  Mr.  Butman  made 
his  appearance,  and  entering  with  his  cautious,  cat-like  gait, 
glanced  carefully  around  the  room,  probably  fearing  that  his 
character  might  suffer  if  he  was  seen  coming  into  such  a 
place. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Gripe,  good  morning,"  he  said,  seating  himself, 
when  he  had  satisfied  himself  that  there  were  no  persons 
present  but  themselves —  "  What  have  you  good  for  me, 
ah,  this  morning?  I  have,  ah,  got  a  little  money,  and 
I  don't  care  if  I  let  it  out  if  I  can  get  a  good  rate,  ah,  for 
it.  I  don't  care  to  make  much,  but,  ah,  I  don't  want  to 
have,  ah,  my  money  idle." 

"  You  use  the  country  banks,  don't  you — two  or  three  of 
them  ?"  queried  Mr.  Gripe,  settling  himself  back  in  his 
chair. 

"  Well,  ah,  I  suppose  I  can  get  some  accommodation  on 
good  paper,  ah." 

"  Now,  then,  I  have  some  good  paper,  and  I  can  put  you 
hi  the  way  of  something  nice,  but  you  must  let  me  go  in  for 
something.  If  you  don't  do  the  fair  thing,  I  know  who 
will." 

"  Of  course,  ah.  I  want  to  do  everything,  ah,  that's 
right.  I  only  want  to  use,  ah,  my  money  at  a  fair  rate." 

"  Listen  for  a  moment,  and  I  will  tell  you  what  my  plan 
is.  I  have  a  fine  line  of  securities  well  endorsed  here.  You 
get  them  discounted,  and  pay  over  the  proceeds  in  country 
money.  That  must  be  kept  out  of  the  banks,  say  for  sixty 
days,  and  I  can  borrow  on  them  at  a  rate  " — 

"  Ah,  yes,  I  see,"  said  Mr.  Butman,  a  quiet  smile  stealing 


APPROACHING     A     CJRISIS.  211 

across  his  oily  face.  "I  don't  know  but  I  might  lend  oil 
the  bills  myself  at  a  fair  rate." 

"  That's  just  what  I  mean.  I  can  get  two  per  cent,  a 
month  for  the  discount,  and  then  the  money  can't  be  bor 
rowed  on  the  bills  at  less  than  fifty  cents  a  day.  You  -know 
that  is  the  regular  rate  now." 

"  Well,  ah,  that  ain't  a  very  bad  plan.  What  kind  of 
notes  ?  Are  they  very  good  ?  I  shouldn't,  ah,  like  to  take 
them,  ah,  unless  I  know,  ah,  all  about  them." 

"  Oh,  regular  jobbers'  country  notes.  My  party  here  will 
endorse  them,  and  he  is  perfectly  good." 

"  Is  he  good  ? — are  you  sure  ?  Do  you  know  him  your 
self?" 

"  Oh,  first-rate — he  is  backed,  I  have  been  told,  by  a 
wealthy  old  uncle — George  Arnold.  Everybody  knows 
him." 

"  Yes,  he  is  good  enough.  I  tell  you  what  I  will  do,  Mr. 
Gripe — (the  ahs  are  omitted,  but  the  reader  will  please 
place  them  between  every  fourth  and  fifth  word) — let  him 
give  me  his  own  notes,  endorsed  by  his  uncle,  with  the  coun 
try  notes  as  collateral,  and  I  think  I  can  get  them  done. 
What  did  you  say  he  would  pay  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  think  he  won't  mind  two  per  cent,  just  novr,  as 
the  market  is  tight." 

"  Do  you  think  that  would  pay,  Mr.  Gripe  ?"  queried  Mr. 
Butman,  with  an  air  of  irresolution. 

"  Well,  I  think,  that  with  two  per  cent  a  month,  and 
fifty  cents  a  day  on  the  bills,  you  might  keep  out  of 


/  s 

'.'  5* 

212    THREE"  PER  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

y ;    >3  >  S* 

the  alms-house  ;"  and  Mr.  Gripe  grinned  a  ghastly  smile  as 
he  perpetrated  the  joke. 

"  Well,  I  guess  I'll  do  it.  I  can  take  about  seven  thous 
and  dollars  between  the  three  banks.  But  mind,  I  want  his 
notes  endorsed  by  George  Arnold,  and  I  will  keep  the  coun 
try  notes  as  collateral.  I  suppose  they  are  all  regular  ?" 

"  Eegular  business  paper  for  goods  sold  and  delivered. 
Will  you  come  in  again  to-day,  or  shall  I  see  you  to-mor 
row  ?" 

"  To-morrow  will  do.  I  guess  I'll  go  and  see  if  I  can  use 
what  Kttle  money  I  have  got  to-day  ;"  and  the  worthy  phi 
lanthropist  left  the  office. 

When  Mr.  Butman  had  taken  his  leave,  Gripe  turned  to 
his  desk,  and  drawing  a  sheet  of  paper  before  him,  com 
menced  a  series  of  additions  and  multiplications  (there  were 
no  subtractions),  and  the  result  seemed  to  afford  him  a  great 
deal  of  pleasure,  for  his  eyes  twinkled,  and  his  face  was 
wreathed  with  smiles,  as  he  took  up  his  hat  to  convey  to 
Mr.  Arnold  the  welcome  intelligence  of  the  arrangement  into 
which  he  was  prepared  to  enter. 

A  very  few  moments  sufficed  to  bring  him  to  the  presence 
of  Mr.  Arnold,  and  with  the  door  of  the  private  office  closed, 
he  entered  at  once  upon  the  object  of  his  sudden  and  most 
welcome  visit. 

"  I  was  so  lucky  as  to  see  my  party,"  said  Gripe,  as  he 
took  a  seat,  "  a  few  minutes  after  you  left  the  office,  and  I 
have  made  an  arrangement  with  him  which  I  think  will  put 
you  through,  and  save  you  a  great  deal  of  trouble.  He  is 


APPROACHING     A     CKI8IS.  213 

willing  to  take,  say  six  or  seven  thousand  dollars  of  your 
notes,  well  endorsed,  and  these  he  will  get  done  at  his  coun 
try  banks,  and  will  turn  over  the  country  bills  to  you. 
The  country  notes  he  will  hold  as  collateral  only." 

"  Really  that  is  admirable,"  said  Mr.  Arnold,  with  enthu 
siasm,  for  the  idea  of  getting  money  at  seven  per  cent,  when 
he  had  been  paying  from  twenty-five  to  seventy-five  per 
cent.,  was  like  ice  in  a  summer's  day.  "  I  can  sell  the  money 
at  the  regular  discount,  and  that  will  save  me" — 

"  Oh  no,"  interrupted  Mr.  Gripe,  with  a  very  meaning 
smile,  "  that  won't  do  at  all.  You  must  agree  to  carry  the 
bills  for  sixty  days  at  least — that  is,  they  must  be  kept 
in  circulation  for  sixty  days,  and  not  presented  at  the 
banks." 

"  Oh,  ah,  yes — I  begin  to  see  into  it.  I  must  borrow  on 
the  bills.  Well,  suppose  he  does  these  notes  for  me,  at 
what  rate  can  I  borrow  on  the  bills  ?" 

"  Why,  I  am  pretty  sure  I  can  find  a 'party  who  would 
agree  to  carry  them  at  seventy-five  cents  a  day.  That  is, 
you  know,  seventy-five  cents  a  thousand.  You  see  that 
would  give  you  ninety  days'  start." 

"  How  ?     I  don't  see  how." 

"  It  is'  very  simple,  I  am  sure.  Of  course  your  notes 
would  not  be  due  under  ninety  days,  and  at  the  end  of  the 
sixty  days,  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  let  the  bills  be  put  in 
circulation.  Sell  them  to  some  builders,  or  parties  who 
employ  a  large  number  of  men.  You  will  find  plenty  such 
to  buy  them,  and  that  will  be  the  end  of  them." 


214    THREE  PER  CENT.   ^  MONTH. 

"  Really,  that  is  not  so  bad  after  all,"  said  Robert,  with 
whom  the  idea  of  a  discount  at  seven  per  cent,  was  still 
prominent. 

"  Yes.  He  says  he  will  take  your  notes  at  two  and  a 
half  per  cent."  (Mr.  Gripe  added  the  half  per  cent.,  possibly 
forgetting  the  recent  interview  with  Mr.  Bntman),  "  and  let 
you  have  the  bills  by  Saturday."  (It  was  on  Tuesday  this 
interview  took  place.) 

"  Two  and  a  half  per  cent.,  and  seventy-five  cents  a  day, 
let  me  see  " — and  Robert  drew  up  to  his  desk,  and  figured 
for  a  few  moments.  "  Why,  Gripe,  that  is  four  and  a 
quarter  per  cent." 

"  Yes,  for  sixty  days,  but  only  two  and  a  half  for  the  rest 
of  the  time,"  said  Mr.  Gripe  anxiously,  fearing  that  his 
customer  would  interpose  some  objection  to  the  rates. 

"  And  your  commission  added.  Can't  he  take  notes  at 
four  months  ?" 

"  No,  he  says  he  won't  go  beyond  three.  And  by  the  way, 
I  mentioned  your  uncle's  name,  and  said  that  as  he  was 
behind  you,  you  could  give  him  your  notes  with  his  endorse 
ment.  He  said  he  would  take  those." 

As  Mr.  Gripe  spoke,  Robert  suddenly  turned  aside,  and 
rising,  went  to  the  glass  door  which  separated  the  office 
from  the  store,  as  if  he  had  seen  or  heard  something  which 
called  him  there. 

He  remained  looking  into  the  store  for  a  minute  or  more, 
then  resuming  his  seat,  remarked  with  an  air  of  calmness,  "  1 
am  very  sorry  you  promised  that.  I  am  not  sure  he  is  in 


APPROACHING      A      CRISIS.  215 

town,  and  I  want  this  arrangement  made  at  once,  if  I  accept 
those  terms. 

Mr.  Gripe  was  so  much  interested  in  his  own  prospective 
profits,  he  did  not  particularly  notice  Mr.  Arnold  ;  if  he 
had,  he  would  have  perceived  that  his  face  was  very  pale, 
and  that  something  unusual  had  occasioned  a  suddeu  change 
in  his  manner  and  appearance. 

"  Oh,  I  know  I  can  make  the  arrangement,  but  he  must 
have  your  uncle's  endorsement — he  mentioned  that  particu 
larly — for  he  said  he  knew  that  he  was  good  for  anything 
to  which  he  puts  his  name." 

"  What  kind  of  man  is  he  ?  Will  he  do  what  he  says  ? 
Will  he  put  the  notes  into  the  street  ?  I  would  not  have 
them  there  with  that  endorsement  on  any  account." 

"  Oh,  no.  He  will  send  them  directly  to  the  countr) 
banks.  You  will  never  hear  of  them  again  until  they  are 
due." 

"  Who  is  he  ?  What  is  he  ?  I  don't  care  so  much  for 
my  own  name,  but  I  wouldn't  have  Uncle  George's  "- 

"  Oh,  you  need  not  fear  on  that  score,  I  assure  you," 
hastily  interrupted  Mr.  Gripe,  feeling  sure  of  his  man 
"  What  he  says  he  will  do,  and  I  will  pledge  myself  that 
you  shall  never  hear  of  the  notes  until  they  are  due." 

"Well,  I  will  think  it  over.  It  is  an  awful  bargain. 
Nearly  sixty  per  cent.,  Gripe." 

"  I  know,  Mr.  Arnold.  But  you  get  ninety  days  of  clear 
time,  and  by  that  time  money  will  be  easier.  You  give  me 
good  city  notes,  and  I  can  get  them  done  at  decent  rates  ; 


216    THBEE  PEE  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

but  money  now  is  worth  a  dollar  an  hour,  almost,  and  the 
idea  of  raising  it  on  country  notes,  is  simply  absurd.  I  can 
do  as  well  as  any  other  man  in  that  line,  and  I  don't  believe 
there  are  six  men  in  the  street  who  could  have  raised  the 
money  for  you  that  I  have,  upon  the  same  securities,  and 
on  as  good  terms." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  call  terms,  Gripe.  But  no 
matter.  I  will  think  it  over,  and  let  you  know  in  tho 
morning." 

"  I  wish  you  would.  He  must  know  before  eleven,  for  he 
wants  to  send  the  notes  up  at  twelve  o'clock,  if  you  want 
the  money  by  Saturday.  Ah,  by  the  way,  don't  trouble 
yourself  about  the  loan  on  the  Insurance  stock — that  will 
work  its  own  way — leave  that  to  me." 

This  was  a  glimpse  •  of  comparative  comfort  which  so 
elated  Mr.  Arnold,  that  he  unhesitatingly  accepted  the 
liberal  offer  of  his  kind  friend,  Mr.  Gripe,  on  the  spot,  and 
promised  to  have  the  notes  at  his  office  the  next  morning  by 
eleven  o'clock,  if  his  Uncle  George  was  in  town.  If  not,  he 
would  have  them  in  a  day  or  two,  at  the  farthest. 

"  Well,  but  if  you  say  you  accept  his  terms,  he  will 
charge  interest  from  to-morrow,"  said  Mr.  Gripe,  anxious  to 
save  his  friend  from  the  payment  of  extra  interest. 

"  Let  him  charge  ;  a  day  or  two  won't  kill  me.  He  shall 
have  the  notes  to-morrow,  if  possible.  I  suppose  he  don't 
want  any  more  than  the  same  quantity  of  collaterals  ?" 

"  I  presume  not." 

"  I  will  make  notes  for  seventy-six  hundred  dollars,  and 


APPROACHING     A     CRISIS.  217 

give  him  that  amount  of  country  notes.  But  mind  you, 
Gripe,  if,  by  any  possible  chance,  these  notes  get  into  the 
street,  you  would  never  " 

"Oh,  don't  borrow  trouble.  I  know  my  man  as  well  as 
I  do  myself." 

"  Yes,  but  I  would  not  have  one  of  them  go  to  my  uncle 
for  the  world." 

"  Never  fear,  I  tell  you.  They  will  go  straight  to  the 
banks  out  of  town,  and  he  will  never  hear  of  them  except 
through  your  fault." 

"  To-morrow  at  eleven  then  I  will  see  you  ;"  and  the  plea 
sant,  smiling  Mr.  Gripe  took  his  leave. 

"  Seven  thousand  dollars,  clear  of  the  insurance  loan,  and 
those  notes  for  the  stock  not  valid  !  Well,  that  is  an  oasis 
indeed.  Let  me  see  ;"  and  drawing  forth  his  bill-book,  he 
glanced  over  it  with  careful  scrutiny.  "  Yes,  that  will  carry 
me  through  the  year.  This  is  the  11th — the  middle  of 
January.  Oh,  things  must  be  lighter  before  that.  I'll  do 
it ;"  and  he  closed  the  book  with  unnecessary  violence,  and 
with  a  shock  which  fairly  startled  himself. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  enter  into  special  details  of  the  fur 
ther  progress  of  this  "  operation."  The  notes  were  handed 
over  on  the  following  morning,  and  on  the  succeeding  Satur 
day  Mr.  Arnold  received  the  proceeds,  amounting  to  some 
thing  over  six  thousand  dollars,  Mr.  Gripe  having,  after 
much  trouble  (as  he  declared),  succeeded  in  finding  a  party 
who  consented  to  carry  the  bills  for  sixty  days,  at  seventy- 
five  cents  a  day. 


218         .THREE     PEE     CENT.     A     MONTH. 

The  reader  may  make  his  own  calculations,  and  he  will 
readily  discover  how  much  Mr.  Arnold  saved  by  this  opera 
tiou,  and  if  he  will  remember  that  Mr.  Butman  charged  two 
per  cent,  a  month,  and  fifty  cents  a  day,  for  the  bills,  while 
Mr.  Gripe  charged  two  and  a  half  per  cent.,  and  seventy-five 
cents  per  day  on  the  bills,  he  can  also  discover  exactly  how 
much  that  worthy  gentleman  made  by  the  arrangement,  in 
addition  to  his  hard  earned  commissions. 

The  money  thus  obtained,  enabled  Mr.  Arnold  to  take  up 
the  loan  of  two  thousand  dollars  when  it  fell  due,  and  the 
same  process  was  repeated  with  the  notes  which  had  been 
placed  out  as  collateral  for  that  amount.  Mr.  Gripe,  with 
the  aid  of  his  kind  friend,  Mr.  Butman,  managed  to  get  ano 
ther  note  for  twenty-seven  hundred  dollars  discounted  at  the 
country  bank,  and  thus  Mr.  Arnold  had  ninety  days  of  com 
parative  ease  before  him,  for  acting  upon  the  hint  which 
Mr.  Gripe  had  thrown  out,  he  made  up  his  mind  not  to  be 
troubled  about  the  loan  on  the  insurance  stock.  He  had 
raised  ten  thousand  three  hundred  dollars,  or  rather  he  had 
raised  that  amount  less  the  two  and  a-half  per  cent.,  the  sev 
enty-five  cents  per  day,  and  the  "regular  commission,"  and 
this  afforded  him  comparative  peace.  Indeed,  he  was  so 
elated  at  the  successful  termination  of  the  operations  he  had 
made  in  the  past  few  days,  as  faithfully  detailed  above,  that 
he  determined  to  celebrate  the  occasion  ;  and  accordingly  on 
the  day  in  which  the  two  thousand  dollar  loan  was  taken  up 
and  put  away  for  ninety  days,  he  invited  some  half  dozen 
of  his  friends  and  neighbors  to  a  card  party,  at  which  he 


APPROACHING     A     CRISIS.  219 

lost  over  ninety  dollars,  besides  the  cost  of  the  supper  ;  and 
all  he  had  to  show  for  his  night's  pleasure  was  a  very  violent 
headache  the  next  morning.  But  then  he  had  put  off  the 
eml  day  for  three  months. 


220    THREE  PEE  CENT.  A  MONTH. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

A     DISCOVEKY     AT     HAND. 

UNCLE  GEORGE  was  very  happy  in  his  new  home.  He 
found  his  rooms  exactly  what  he  wanted.  He  was  with 
those  who  seemed  really  to  care  for  him,  and  for  whom  he 
felt  a  strong  attachment,  and  there  was  on  their  part,  every 
apparent  effort  to  make  him  comfortable,  happy,  and  con 
tented. 

As  for  Mr.  Benson,  every  day  seemed  to  confirm  Mr 
Arnold  in  his  first  conceived  opinion,  that  he  was  one  of  the 
most  worthy,  honorable,  upright,  and  industrious  men  he 
had  ever  met — possessing  an  integrity  which  nothing  could 
swerve,  and  a  firmness  of  purpose  from  which  he  could  not 
be  moved. 

Mrs.  Benson  was  attentive  and  careful.  She  knew  how 
much  her  husband  owed  to  the  kindness  of  their  guest,  and 
her  natural  goodness  of  heart  led  her  to  strive  by  every  pos- 
8ible  means  to  prove  her  gratitude  for  favors  bestowed  upon 
him,  by  attention  to  his  wants  and  comforts. 

True,  they  were  comparatively  rich  themselves.      Mr. 


A     DISCOVERY     AT     HAND.  221 

Benson's  business  had  prospered  beyond  his  fondest  hopes, 
and  they  could  have  purchased  and  occupied  the  house  in 
which  they  now  resided,  without  any  drawback  upon  her 
husband's  business,  and  without  going  beyond  their  means. 

It  was,  therefore,  not  with  any  idea  of  personal  advan 
tage  that  Mr.  Arnold's  offer  had  been  so  promptly  accepted, 
but  rather  with  a  view  of  testifying  their  appreciation  of  his 
kindness  and  confidence. 

And  Mr.  Arnold  was  too  sensible  a  man  not  to  see  and 
appreciate  his  own  and  their  true  position.  In  the  strongest 
sense  of  the  word,  he  was  at  home,  if,  indeed,  a  bachelor  of 
sixty  can  be  said  to  know  the  meaning  of  the  word. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Benson  were  fearful  at  first  that  the  children 
would  disturb  their  host  and  lodger,  but  those  fears  were 
Koon  dissipated,  and  they  had  good  cause  for  alarm  lest  he 
should  spoil  them  by  over  indulgence. 

The  first  week  of  his  advent,  they  were  cautioned  not  to 
approach  his  apartments,  and  to  be  as  quiet  as  mice  when 
ne  was  within,  so  that  their  first  impressions  led  them  to 
look  upon  him  as  something  akin  to  a  Bluebeard,  or  a  child- 
eater.  During  the  second  week,  he  was  caught  coaxing 
them  with  candies,  which  he  had  purchased  for  their  especial 
use,  and  which  he  bought  in  most  unhealthy  profusion. 

In  the  third,  they  had  found  their  way  into  his  rooms, 
and  before  the  fourth  week  had  expired,  his  apartments  were 
their  constant  resort,  and  he  their  play-fellow. 

Georgey  would  steal  his  spectacles,  and  mounting  them 
upon  his  tiny  nose,  would  perch  himself  in  "  Uncle  George's  " 


222  THEEE     PEE     CENT.      A     MONTH. 

easy-chair  (for  they  had  dubbed  him  Uncle  George),  and 
with  newspaper  in  hand,  pretended  to  be  deeply  engrossed 
in  the  news  of  the  day  ;  while  Nelly,  the  mischievous  mon 
key,  would  put  his  wig  in  papers,  and  make  him  sing  her  to 
sleep,  or  tell  her  stories  until  he  was  hoarse. 

One  day,  towards  evening,  while  seated  at  her  work, 
awaiting  the  arrival  of  her  husband  and  Mr.  Arnold,  Mrs. 
Benson  was  startled  by  the  sound  of  a  terrible  racket  pro 
ceeding  from  Mr.  Arnold's  room. 

A  hasty  glance  around  her  own  room  satisfied  her  that 
the  children,  who  were  out  of  sight,  were  at  the  bottom  of 
it,  and  she  was  sure  that  some  mischief  was  going  on. 

Mr.  Arnold's  room  was  now  by  courtesy  and  by  common 
consent,  the  play-room.  They  were  permitted  to  do  as 
they  chose  and  what  they  chose  when  there,  and  he  had 
given  express  directions  that  no  fault  should  be  found 
with  anything  they  might  do  while  there,  and  that  they 
should  be  left  to  his  correction  if  they  needed  any  on  his 
account. 

Mrs.  Benson  soon  discovered  that  he  was  in  a  fair  way  of 
spoiling  them  by  indulgence,  and  had  begun  to  rack  her 
brains  for  an  antidote  ;  but  at  every  point  she  was  foiled, 
for  there  were  three  to  one,  and  for  the  present  she  had  to 
yield  to  the  majority.  But  to  the  racket. 

Mrs.  Benson,  satisfied  that  the  children  were  at  some  mis 
chief,  hastened  up  stairs,  quite  unaware  that  Mr.  Arnold  had 
been  at  home  over  an  hour,  and  had  been  stuffing  them  with 
cakes  and  candies,  which  in  the  goodness  of  his  heart  he 


A     DISCOVERY     AT     HAND.  223 

thought  was  the  best  thing  he  could  get  for  them,  because 
they  liked  them  the  best. 

The  door  of  his  apartment  was  closed,  but  as  she  was 
certain  that  he  was  not  at  home,  for  she  had  not  heard  him 
enter,  and  was  equally  sure  that  her  children  were  at  some 
mischief,  she  opened  it  without  the  formality  of  knocking, 
and  beheld  a  sight  which  quite  upset  her  dignity,  and 
deprived  her  of  all  power  of  finding  fault. 

Mr.  Arnold  —  the  sedate  —  quiet — stern — hard-featured 
man,  who  was  so  seldom  seen  to  smile,  was  down  on  his 
hands  and  knees  on  the  floor,  with  Master  George  upon  his 
back  ;  while  Nelly,  with  cane  in  hand,  and  a  string  around 
his  neck,  was  pounding  upon  the  floor,  and  urging  on  her 
horse  to  the  top  of  his  speed. 

As  Mrs.  Benson  opened  the  door,  Mr.  Arnold,  still  retain 
ing  his  rider  upon  his  back,  turned  his  head  aside,  and  on 
seeing  who  it  was,  gave  her  such  a  comical  look,  nature 
could  not  withstand  it,  and  hastening  to  a  sofa  she  threw 
herself  upon  it,  and  gave  free  vent  to  a  burst  of  laughter, 
which  might  have  been  heard  full  half  a  block,  if  the  win 
dows  had  been  open,  which  fortunately  was  not  the  case. 

Mr.  Arnold,  struck  with  the  ludicrousness  of  his  position, 
and  fully  appreciating  the  fun  of  the  moment,  caught  the 
infection,  and  gently  rolling  OVCT  so  as  not  to  injure  his 
rider,  joined  her  with  a  heartiness  which  made  the  room 
ring  again,  while  Nelly,  utterly  confounded  at  the  sudden 
apparition  of  her  mother,  stood  with  the  uplifted  cane  in  her 
hand,  and  the  half-finished  " get  up"  on  her  lips. 


224     THKEE  PER  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

Mr.  Arnold  had  found  a  home  indeed,  and  this  little 
episode  has  only  been  narrated  to  show  that  beneath  the 
rough  and  forbidding  exterior,  and  under  the  guise  of  cold 
austere  manners,  there  beat  a  heart  open  to  every  kindly 
sympathy,  and  capable  of  enjoying  the  pure  delights  of 
domestic  happiness. 

"Well,  you  caught  us  then,"  he  said,  still  lying  on  the 
floor,  for  he  was  too  much  weakened  by  laughter  to  rise, 
while  his  rider  had  shrunk  away  into  a  corner  out  of  his 
mother's  sight,  and  Nelly,  dropping  her  whip  and  reins, 
stole  into  the  other  room. 

"  You  will  ruin  those  children,  Mr.  Arnold,"  said  Mrs, 
Benson,  when  she  found  breath  to  say  anything.  "  They 
don't  think  of  anything  after  school  but  to  come  in  your 
room.  I  am  afraid  they  will  do  some  serious  mischief  yet, 
and  then  you  will  make  them  very  unhappy  by  scolding 
them." 

"  I  wish  they  would,"  said  Mr.  Arnold,  rising  and  shaking 
himself.  "  I  should  really  like  to  have  them  do  something 
to  make  me  scold.  If  they  would  only  break  my  looking- 
glasses,  or  cut  the  carpets,  or  spoil  the  furniture,  it  would 
please  me  very  much,  for  I  want  to  know  how  it  feels  to 
scold  those  whom  we  love  ;"  and  he  closed  with  an  earnest 
ness  of  expression  which  satisfied  Mrs.  Benson  that  the  trio 
were  very  likely  to  have  their  own  way. 

"  Go  along,  you  imps  of  mischief,  and  get  ready  for  tea," 
said  Mrs.  Benson,  biting  her  lips  to  restrain  her  laughter,  as 
ehe  saw  George  peeping  from  his  corner,  and  noticed  Nelly 


A     DISCOVERY     AT     HAND.  225 

looking  through  a  crack  in  the  door  which  led  to  the  back 
room.  "  Come,  Mr.  Arnold,  tea  is  ready.  Send  the  chil 
dren  away  ;  they  don't  pay  much  attention  to  me  when  you 
are  at  home." 

"  Come,  pets,  you  hear  what  mother  says — go  and  get 
ready  for  tea  ;"  and  they  scattered  at  his  word. 

"  Really,  Mr.  Arnold,"  said  Mrs.  Benson,  "  you  must  not 
allow  such  liberties.  You  will  make  them  unmanageable. 
One  of  these  days  you  will  get  weary  of  them,  they  will 
annoy  you,  and  you  won't  be  willing  to  believe  that  it  is 
your  own  fault.  I  have  tried  to  keep  them  away  from  you, 
so  as  not  to  disturb  you  " 

"  Yes,  I  know  you  did,"  he  interrupted,  laughing,  "  and  I 
coaxed  them  in  here,  that  I  might  have  some  pleasure  with 
them.  They  never  do  anything  without  my  free  consent, 
and  you  must  not  blame  them  because  I  act  like  a  child 
when  they  are  here.  I  must  have  something  to  love  and  to 
love  me." 

Mrs.  Benson  saw  it  was  useless  to  say  any  more  on  that 
point,  and  repeating  her  remark  that  tea  was  ready  left  the 
room. 

Mr.  Benson  reached  home  at  the  usual  hour,  and  the 
family  were  seated  at  the  table,  Mr.  Arnold  being,  accord 
ing  to  his  own  selection,  flanked  on  either  side  by  George 
and  Nelly. 

"  1  took  a  little  advantage  of  you  to-day,  Mr.  Arnold," 
eaid  Mr.  Benson,  after  some  conversation  upon  the  current 

events  of  the  day. 
15 


226    THEEE  PER   CENT.   A  MONTH. 

"  Well,  you  need  not  have  told  me  of  it,  friend  Benson  ; 
but  as  you  have  mentioned  it,  I  should  like  to  know  how." 

"  Why,  I  had  a  lot  of  old  materials  which  I  have  got  out 
of  some  houses  I  have  been  pulling  down,  and  I  sold  them 
on  your  credit  to  a  gentleman  named  Butman." 

"As  I  never  dealt  in  the  articles,"  said  Mr.  Arnold, 
quietly  spreading  his  bread,  "  I  can't  comprehend  you  ; 
please  explain." 

"  That  is  very  easily  done.  The  person  who  wanted  to 
purchase,  was  going  to  build  some  tenement  houses  on  the 
eastern  side  of  the  city,  and  he  offered  to  take  all  the  old 
stuff  I  had  off  my  hands  if  I  would  take  some  notes  in  part 
payment,  and  yours  was  one  of  them." 

"  Not  my  note,  Mr.  Benson  ?"  queried  Mr.  Arnold,  paus 
ing  as  he  was  in  the  act  of  putting  the  bread  to  his  mouth. 

"  Not  your  note,  but  your  name.  There  it  is  ;"  and 
drawing  forth  his  pocket-book,  he  extracted  from  a  number 
of  papers,  a  note  for  nineteen  hundred  and  odd  dollars,  drawn 
Robert  Arnold  to  his  own  order,  and  endorsed  by  George 
Ajnold. 

Mr.  Arnold  took  the  paper  calmly  ;  he  looked  at  it  with 
the  most  earnest  attention,  and  as  he  looked,  his  counte 
nance  changed  to  an  expression  of  sternness,  such  as  no  one 
there  present  had  ever  seen  before. 

Whatever  might  have  been  the  nature  of  his  emotions,  he 
quickly  mastered  them,  and  turning  to  Mr.  Benson,  said, 
with  his  business-like  coolness,  "  I  don't  fancy  my  name  get 
ting  out  this  way.  Will  you  let  me  discount  this  note  ?" 


A      DISCOVERY     AT     HAND.  227 

"  Ob,  Mr.  Arnold,  I  did  not  mention  it  for  that,  sir,"  said 
Benson,  fearing  that  he  had  offended  his  friend.  "  I  do  not 
need  the  money  ;  I  do  not  want  it,  and  I  took  it  at  such  a 
rate  " 

"  Mr.  Benson,"  said  Mr.  Arnold,  earnestly,  interrupting 
him,  "  you  will  oblige  me  by  allowing  me  to  give  you  a  check 
for  this  note," 

"  Certainly,  sir — certainly,  if  you  ask  it.  But  really  I 
would  not  have  you  think  " 

"  I  do  not  think  anything  that  can  give  you  one  moment 
of  pain,  my  good  friend,"  he  said,  not  allowing  Mr.  Benson 
to  finish  his  sentence.  "  Please  allow  me  to  retain  this  note, 
and  if  you  will  send  to  my  office  in  the  morning,  I  will  give 
you  a  check  for  it  ;"  and  taking  consent  for  granted,  he 
carefully  folded  the  note,  and  placed  it  in  his  wallet. 

Mr.  Benson  thought  that  Mr.  Arnold  was  offended  at 
having  paper  with  his  name  placed  in  such  a  position,  and 
appreciating  his  feelings,  made  no  further  objections  or 
remark,  but  suffered  him  to  retain  the 


228    THREE  PER  CENT.  A  MONTH. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

MEETING     OLD     ACQUAINTANCES. 

THE  reader  must  not  suppose  that  Susan  Scott  or  her 
now  worthy  husband  had  been  forgotten.  She,  at  least,  has 
a  part  to  play  in  this  drama  of  domestic  life,  far  from  unim 
portant,  but  her  cue  has  not  yet  been  reached. 

Mr.  Arnold  had  continued  to  manifest  a  deep  interest  in 
her  welfare,  and  was  an  occasional  visitor  at  her  house, 
always  carrying  with  him  some  substantial  token  of  his 
regard  for  herself  or  her  children,  although  she  never  knew 
why  he  took  so  deep  an  interest  in  her  welfare,  save,  as  he 
had  told  her,  that  he  knew  her  mother,  and  for  her  sake 
would  befriend  her,  a  promise  he  had  most  faithfully 
kept. 

As  for  her  husband,  he  had  several  conversations  with 
Mr.  Benson  concerning  him,  and  evidently  contemplated 
some  measures  for  his  advantage,  when  he  was  satisfied  that 
Ms  reformation  was  sincere. 

About  two  weeks  before  the  occurrences  transpired  as 
detailed  in  the  last  chapter,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Arnold  were 
returning  from  church  alone,  for  they  had  left  the  children 


MEETING     OLD     ACQUAINTANCES.       229 

at  home  on  that  day,  and  had  preferred  to  walk,  as  the 
weather  was  so  pleasant,  instead  of  using  their  carriage. 

As  they  turned  down  Twenty-Second  street  from  the 
Fifth  Avenue,  they  were  met  on  the  corner  by  Mr.  George 
Arnold,  who  was  leading  by  the  hand  two  pretty,  well- 
dressed  children,  the  living  pictures  of  health  and  innocent 
happiness. 

Behind  them  was  a  couple  neatly  and  genteelly  dressed. 
The  woman  possibly  might  have  seen  thirty  summers,  and 
even  now  might  have  been  called  beautiful.  The  man  was 
a  fine,  healthy,  hearty,  pleasant-looking  person,  and  seemed 
evidently  very  proud  of  his  pretty  wife  and  handsome,  well- 
dressed  children. 

They  were  deeply  engaged  in  conversation,  and  as  they 
passed  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Arnold,  the  former  took  off  his  hat 
with  great  deference  to  his  uncle.  The  movement  caused 
Mrs.  Arnold  to  raise  her  eyes,  and  they  met  those  of  the 
mother  of  the  children. 

In  an  instant  a  crimson  blush  suffused  her  face,  and  there 
was  a  pause — a  momentary  hesitation  as  if  she  would  stop 
and  speak  to  the  female,  but  a  second  thought  decided  her, 
and  she  passed  on,  trembling  however,  and  hanging  more 
heavily  upon  her  husband's  arm. 

When  they  had  passed  a  few  yards,  her  husband  turning 
to  look  at  the  retreating  forms  of  the  party  they  had  just 
passed,  muttered.  "  I  wonder  who  the  deuce  the  old  gentle 
man  has  got  there.  He  is  not  surely  married  again  ?  Belle, 
who  on  earth  could  that  be  with  my  uncle  ?" 


230    THREE  PER  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

"  Your  uncle  !"  said  Belle,  turning  pale.  "  Is  that  your 
Uncle  George  ?  Keally  I  did  not  know  Mm.  You  know 
I  never  saw  him  but  two  or  three  times.  I  wonder  he  don't 
come  to  our  house.  Those  were  common  looking  people 
with  whom  he  was  walking,"  she  added,  with  a  very  slight 
toss  of  the  head.  "  Why  don't  you  ask  him  to  our  house  ? 
I  thought  you  was  a  great  favorite  of  his." 

"  Oh,  he  wouldn't  come,  I  know,  on  any  formal  invitation. 
He  goes  and  comes  when  he  chooses,  and  I  should  not  be 
surprised  some  night  if  he  were  to  drop  in  just  from  curiosity. 
He  affects  a  great  horror  of  fashion  and  style,  and  our  way 
of  living  would  not  suit  him." 

"  He  is  very  wealthy,  is  he  not  ?" 

"  Very  indeed.  I  wish  I  had  some  of  his  money  just 
now,"  he  added,  with  a  sigh. 

"  Who  was  that  gentleman,  Mr.  Arnold  ?"  queried  Mrs. 
Scott,  for  it  was  herself  with  her  husband  and  children  who 
were  Mr.  Arnold's  companions.  "  He  bowed  to  you,  I  saw, 
aud  looked  as  if  he  knew  me,  or  wanted  to  know  me." 

"  That  was  my  extravagant  nephew." 

"  Your  nephew  !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Scott,  with  a  start  so 
marked,  and  with  such  an  air  of  astonishment,  Mr.  Arnold 
could  not  fail  to  notice  it. 

"  Why,  Susan,  is  there  anything  wonderful  in  my  having 
a  nephew  ?" 

"  I  never  heard  you  mention  him,  sir,"  she  said  mildly. 

"  Umph — perhaps  I  had  my  reasons.  But  why  do  you 
ask  ?" 


MEETING     OLD      ACQUAINTANCES.       231 

"  That  was  Ms  wife,  I  know,  though  I  did  not  know 
before  that  she  was  married  to  your  nephew." 

"  Do  you  know  her  ?" 

"  I  did  sir.     I  have  some  cause  to  remember  her." 

"  Really,  it  is  my  turn  to  be  astonished,"  said  Mr.  Arnold, 
laughing  ;  and  dropping  the  hands  of  the  children,  he  left 
them  to  go  with  their  father,  while  he  walked  on  with  Mrs. 
Scott.  "  Where  did  you  know  her,  and  why  is  it  she  does 
not  choose  to  know  you  ?  for  I  saw  she  did  not  bow  to  you." 

"  Mr.  Arnold,"  said  Mrs.  Scott,  "  she  is  my  half-sis 
ter." 

"  Good  heavens,  Susan  !  are  you  earnest  ?  My  nephew's 
wife  your  half-sister  !  Why,  I  shall  have  to  go  and  see  her, 
and  learn  to  love -her  for  your  sake." 

"  My  name  would  be  a  very  poor  passport  to  her  favor, 
sir,  I  am  afraid,"  said  Susan,  sorrowfully. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Susan  ?  Have  you  quarrelled  ? 
Come  tell  me  truth — there  is  something  at  the  bottom  of 
this — out  with  it.  I  have  a  right  to  know.". 

"  You  have  a  right  to  know  everything  concerning  me, 
sir,  of  course — you  know  my  mother  was  married  twice  ?" 

"  This  is  not  the  first  time  I  have  heard  that — you  told 
me  that  before. 

"  Her  second  husband,  whom  she  married  when  I  was 
about  eighteen,  had  this  daughter,  Belle  Harding,  and  after 
my  mother's  death,  which  took  place  a  year  after  her  mar 
riage,  I  was  entirely  discarded  by  father  and  daughter, 
and  forced  to  shift  for  myself. 


232    THKEE   PEK   CENT.   A  MONTH. 

"  Belle  married  very  soon  after  her  father's  death.  She 
was  living  at  the  time  wiih  her  aunt,  who  kept  a  boarding- 
house,  and  Mr.  Arnold  was  one  of  the  boarders.  Since  that 
time  I  have  been  sorely  tried,  and  have  suffered  much, 
but " and  she  hesitated. 

"  Did  you  ever  apply  to  Belle,  as  you  call  her,  for  assist 
ance  ?" 

''  I  did,  Mr.  Arnold,  and  " 

"  Well,  what  did  she  do  ?  Out  with  it,"  he  said,  impa 
tiently.  "  Never  mind  if  her  husband  is  my  nephew — tell 
me  the  whole  truth.  Don't  leave  out  one  word.  Remem 
ber  I  have  a  claim  on  you  greater  than  she  or  he  could  have 
on  me.  Why  did  you  never  tell  me  of  this  before  ?" 

Thus  appealed  to,  Susan  narrated  briefly  an  interview 
she  had  with  Belle  soon  after  they  had  moved  into 
their  new  house. 

It  occurred  shortly  before  she  had  met  Mr.  Benson,  when 
she  was  in  the  very  lowest  depth  of  her  misery,  poverty  and 
wretchedness.  She  had  seen  Belle  in  Broadway,  where  she 
had  been  vainly  begging  from  the  careless  passers  by,  some 
thing  to  stave  off  threatened  starvation.  She  had  seen  her 
flaunting  by  in  silks  and  satins,  and  feeling  that  the  world 
must  have  prospered  with  her,  dared  to  hope  for  sympathy 
and  perhaps  assistance. 

She  followed  Belle  to  her  home — had  seen  her  enter,  and 
feeling  that  she  had  the  common  claim,  which  too  few  are 
willing  to  recognize  that  of  suffering  humanity,  had  ven 
tured  to  ring  the  bell,  and  ask  an  interview. 


MEETING     OLD     ACQUAINTANCES.        233 

Belle  had  spurned  her — had  mocked  her  misery,  had 
taunted  her  with  her  degradation,  and  had  refused  the 
slightest  aid,  even  when  appealed  to  for  the  sake  of  her 
suffering,  starving  children. 

"  The  vixen  !  The  hard-hearted  hussy  !"  exclaimed  Mr 
Arnold,  as  Susan  concluded  her  narrative.  "  Never  mind — 
thank  heaven  you  don't  look  to  her  for  aid  now.  Your 
husband  has  a  strong  arm,  and  a  willing  heart." 

"  Yes,  heaven  bless  him.  No  woman  could  have  a  better 
husband,  now  he  is  himself.  He  will  never  see  me  suffer 
again  if  he  can  help  it,  I  am  sure." 

"  And  I  don't  think  George  Arnold  would  suffer  your 
mothers  daughter  to  suffer  while  he  h,as  anything  to  share 
with  her.  So  make  yourself  easy  on  that  score,"  and  Mr. 
Arnold  wiped  the  dust  from  his  eyes  which  had  gathered 
there  in  such  quantities,  as  nearly  to  blind  him  with 
tears. 

The  conversation  was  continued  in  this  strain  until  they 
reached  their  house,  when  Mr.  Arnold  took  his  leave, 
and  returned  to  what  he  now  called  and  felt  was  his  home. 

"  Robert,"  said  his  wife,  on  reaching  home  after  the 
interview  which  has  just  been  narrated,  though  that  is 
scarcely  the  proper  term,  for  it  was  only  a  casual  meeting 
in  the  street  ;  "  did  you  know  those  persons  with  whom 
your  uncle  was  walking  ?" 

"  No,  I  never  saw  either  of  them  before.  I  thought  at 
first  it  might  be  Benson,  the  man  who  repaired  our  house, 
but  it  was  not  him,  I  am  sure." 


234:    THEEE  PEK  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

"  I  know  the  woman  well  enough." 

"  You  know  the  woman,  Belle — are  you  crazy  ?" 

"  No.  I  wish  I  had  never  seen  her,  and  least  of  all  now 
that  I  have  seen  her  with  your  uncle.  Do  you  expect  any 
thing  from  your  uncle  ?" 

"  I  have  some  right  to  do  so,  unless  he  takes  it  into  his 
head  to  will  his  property  to  some  African  mission,  or  to  pur 
chase  English  Bibles  for  Chinamen.  He  has  no  relations  on 
earth  but  myself." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  that." 

"  Thank  you,  Belle,"  said  Eobert,  rather  ironically. 

"  There  ;  you  need  not  quarrel  with  me.  I  mean  what 
I  said.  I  am  sorry  I  ever  saw  that  woman.  She  is  my 
step-sister." 

"  Why,  B*lle  Arnold,  your  step-sister  !  Are  you  crazy, 
or  are  you  fooling  me  ?" 

"  You  will  find  out  that  I  am  neither  fooling  you,  as  you 
call  it,  nor  crazy.  Now  you  must  do  as  I  bid  you  if  you 
want  to  save  yourself  from  trouble." 

"  Well,  that  is  cool.  I  should  like  to  know  how  I  am  to 
get  in  trouble  on  account  of  a  woman  I  never  heard  of  in 
my  life  until  now." 

"  Simply  in  this  way,"  replied  Belle.  "When  we  first 
bought  here,  that  woman  came  begging  to  me.  She  told 
me  a  pitiable  story,  which  I  dare  say  was  half  made  up. 
At  any  rate,  whether  it  was  true  or  not,  I  did  not  feel  as  if 
I  could  give  away  anything  then.  You  were  under  heavy 
expenses,  you  know,  in  purchasing  and  furnishing  the  house, 


MEETING     OLD     ACQUAINTANCES.        235 

and  I  sent  her  off.  It  is  true  she  had  no  claims  on  me 
simply  because  my  foolish  father  married  her  mother,  but 
now  that  she  has  seen  me  again,  she  will  of  course  inquire 
who  you  were,  as  you  bowed  to  your  uncle,  and  that  will 
bring  out  the  whole  story." 

"  I  don't  see  even  now  what  I  have  to  do  with  it." 

"  This  much.  It  was  your  wife  who  refused  to  assist  her 
when  she  said  she  needed  it,  and  your  uncle  may  think  that 
you  know  of  her  visit,  and  my  refusal  to  aid  her.  Now  it 
is  plain  they  must  be  very  good  friends,  or  he  would  not 
be  walking  with  her  and  her  children,  and  he  may  feel 
inclined  to  visit  my  sins  on  your  shoulders — not  that  I  think 
I  was  at  all  called  upon  to  relieve  her,  but  no  doubt  she 
will  make  up  an  artful  story,  and  try  to  injure  me  and  your 
self  in  your  uncle's  estimation." 

"  But  what  on  earth  can  I  do  ?" 

"  You  must  go  to  your  uncle,  and  say  I  sent  you  to  ask 
who  that  lady  was  with  whom  he  was  walking,  as  I  thought 
it  must  be  my  step-sister,  whom  I  had  not  seen  for  some 
years,  and  for  whom  I  have  been  looking  very  anxiously." 

"  Do  you  suppose  he  will  believe  me  or  you  either  ?" 

"  Perhaps  he  will  not,  but  it  is  worth  the  trial.  You 
may  rely  upon  it,  she  will  do  you  some  harm  unless  you  fol 
low  my  advice.  Ask  of  him  where  she  lives,  and  say  how 
glad  I  shall  be  to  see  her  again.'' 

"  But  how  on  earth  did  it  happen  that  I  never  heard  of 
this  step-sister  before  ?" 

"  Oh,  that's  a  long  story.     We  parted  long  before  I  evur 


236    THREE  PEE  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

saw  you.  But  never  mind  that  now.  Will  you  do  as  I  ask 
you  ?" 

"  I  don't  see  how  any  good  can  come  of  it,  but  I  will  see 
him  to  satisfy  you." 

"  It  can't  make  things  worse,  and  may  make  them  much 
better.  I  wish  /  could  see  him,  I  could  settle  it  very 
quickly." 

It  was,  therefore,  determined  that  Robert  should  see  his 
uncle  the  next  day,  and  make  the  affectionate  inquiries  dic 
tated  by  his  wife,  after  her  step-sister.  The  result  of  that 
interview  may  be  very  briefly  stated. 

"  My  compliments  to  your  wife,  and  say  that  I  have  no 
doubt  her  step-sister  will  be  very  much  pleased  to  know  of 
the  interest  which  Mrs.  Arnold  takes  in  her,  but  she  has  no 
desire  to  renew  the  intercourse  so  long  broken  off.  You 
may  tell  her,"  Mr.  Arnold  added,  "  that  her  step-sister  has 
found  a  friend  who  will  never  suffer  her  to  want." 

"  There,  what  do  you  think  of  tnat,  Mrs.  Arnold  ?"  said 
her  husband,  dashing  his  clenched  hand  on  the  table,  as  he 
narrated  the  interview  which  was  closed  by  the  message  just 
delivered. 

"  It  is  no  worse  than  it  was,  Robert.  I  am  sorry  things 
have  turned  up  so  badly.  I  suppose  that  friend  is  your 
uncle." 

"  Of  course,  and  there  is  so  much  gone  from  me.  Well, 
there  is  no  use  crying  over  spilled  milk,"  and  he  whistled 
carelessly,  though  his  heart  was  ill  at  ease. 

As  for  Mrs.  Arnold,  she  could  have  bitten  her  fingers  off 


MEETING     OLD     ACQUAINTANCES.      237 

if  that  would  have  mended  matters — but  as  they  were  very 
pretty,  tapering  fingers,  and  the  loss  of  them  would  not 
restore  things  to  their  former  position,  she  determined  to 
save  her  fingers  and  trust  to  luck  for  the  future. 

"  I  might  as  well  tell  you  now,  Belle,  as  ever,"  said 
Robert,  who  had  been  pacing  the  parlor,  biting  his  lips,  and 
drawing  down  his  brow,  "  this  will  only  hurry  matters 
with  me.  I  was  going  to  Uncle  George  to  see  if  I  could  not 
get  him  to  help  me  a  little  more,  for  I  am  just  now  in  a 
very  tight  spot,  but  that  is  out  of  the  question  now.  I 
don't  believe  he  would  lend  me  a  thousand  dollars  to  save 
me  from  ruin." 

"  But  what  help  do  you  want  now  ?  Are  you  not  doing 
a  good  business  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  am  doing  a  smashing  business,"  he  said,  pausing 
before  her,  and  looking  her  full  in  the  eye. 

"  I  don't  understand  you,  Robert." 

"  Well,  do  you  understand  this,"  he  said,  with  something 
of  fierceness  in  his  tone,  "  if  I  don't  get  help  somewhere, 
I  shall  fail  before  January  ?" 

"  Oh  yes,  you  told  me  that  before,  since  we  came  back 
from  Newport.  You  wanted  me  to  give  up  the  house  and 
all  my  comforts,  but  you  did  not  say  a  word  about  your 
wines  and  segars,  and  card  parties,  and  club  dinners 
Oh  yes,  it  was  very  well  to  lay  it  on  me,"  and  her  eyes 
began  to  flash,  and  her  color  to  rise,  presaging  a  coming 
storm." 

"  Well,   well,   there's   no   use   in   quarrelling   about  it 


238      THEEE  PER  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

We  have  lived  like  fools,  but  it  can't  last  much  longer. 
All  I  have  to  tell  you,  Belle,  is  to  make  hay  while  the 
sun  shines;  neither  you  nor  I  know  how  soon  the  storm 
may  break  over  us.  I  tell  you  I  cannot  hold  out  much 
longer,"  and  he  gazed  around  upon  his  luxurious  apartments 
as  if  mentally  bidding  them  farewell. 


A     DISCOVEEY     MADE.  239 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A     DISCOVERY     MADE. 

ON  the  evening  in  which  the  occurrences  transpired  as 
detailed  in  the  chapter  preceding  the  last,  Mr.  and  Mra. 
Arnold  were  seated  in  the  parlor,  evidently  awaiting  the 
arrival  of  some  persons ;  for  the  lady,  who  was  in  full  dress, 
cast  frequent  glances  at  the  clock,  and  muttered  exclama 
tions  of  impatience  at  the  excessive  fashion  of  somebody. 

Robert  Arnold  had  thrown  himself  at  full  length  upon  a 
sofa,  and  varied  the  tedium  of  the  hour  by  very  expressive 
yawns. 

"  I  do  think  they  might  come  in  decent  season,"  said  his 
wife,  with  an  ill-concealed  air  of  vexation  ;  "  when  I  wrote 
specially  that  it  was  only  for  a  few  friends." 

"  Never  mind,  Belle  ;  you  are  just  as  bad  as  the  rest  of 
them.  I  never  knew  you  to  be  ready  before  ten  o'clock, 
and  it's  just  eight  now." 

"  That's  all  very  well  when  one  is  going  to  a  full  dressed 
party.  Nobody  thinks  of  going  before  ten  or  eleven  o'clock  ; 
but  we  are  only  to  have  a  few  friends — a  nice  little  sociable 
I  wanted,  and  now  they  must  turn  it  into  a  regular  party." 


240    THREE  PEE  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

"Well,  that's  the  way  of  the  world.  'Some  of  your 
friends,  no  doubt,  think  they  would  lose  caste  if  they  were 
to  be  at  a  party  before  ten  or  eleven  o'clock,  and  others  are 
so  decidedly  fashionable  they  don't  come  until  the  next  day." 

Mrs.  Arnold's  reply  was  cut  short  by  a  ring  at  the  door 
bell,  and  a  smile  was  instantly  coaxed  to  her  face.  That 
was  the  prelude  to  other  arrivals,  and  for  the.  rest  of  the 
evening  her  mind  would  be  fully  engrossed. 

"  I  wonder  who  that  is,"  she  said,  half  aloud ;  "  I  am 
glad  there  is  one  sensible  person  among  them." 

She  was  not  left  long  in  wonder,  for  the  parlor  door  was 
opened  by  the  servant,  and  an  elderly  gentleman,  hat  in 
hand,  was  ushered  in,  whom  both  on  the  instant  sprang 
forward  to  salute. 

It  was  Uncle  George. 

"I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,  Uncle  George,"  exclaimed 
Robert,  springing  forward,  with  a  flush  on  his  face.  "  Let 
me  take  your  hat.  We  are  going  to  have  a  few  quiet 
friends  to-night,  and  I  know  you  will  enjoy  it." 

"  We  are  proud  and  happy  to  see  you,  Mr.  Arnold,"  said 
his  wife,  with  a  sweeping  courtesy,  and  approaching  with  a 
face  wreathed  in  smiles,  she  tendered  a  pretty  jewelled 
hand,  which  Uncle  George  suffered  to  remain  in  his  own  for 
a  single  second. 

"  And  how  is  dear  Susan  ?"  she  continued,  with  an  air  of 
anxious  inquiry.  "I  do  so  long  to  see  her,  it  is  so  long 
since  we  have  met — though,  I  suppose  the  fault  is  my  owa 
I  dare  say  she  has  quite  forgotten  me. 


A     DISCOVERY     MADE.  241 

"  I  dare  say,"  replied  Mr.  Arnold,  without  moving  a  mus 
cle  of  his  face.  "  She  is  very  well,  and  well  cared  for.  No, 
I  don't  care  to  sit  down  ;  I  called  around  for  a  moment  on 
business  with  you,"  and  he  turned  to  Mr.  Arnold. 

"  With  me  —  certainly,"  replied  Eobert,  hurriedly. 
"Walk  up  into  the  library.  But  I  hope,  now  you  are 
here,  you  will  spend  the  evening  with  us.  I  assure  you  we 
are  only  to  have  a  few  intimate  friends." 

"Not  this  evening;  perhaps  I  may  some  other  time;" 
and  Robert,  with  a  sensation  of  uneasiness  which  he  could 
not  well  conceal,  led  the  way  to  his  library  (though  he  had 
never  passed  an  hour  in  it  since  he  occupied  the  house, 
except  to  smote  and  drink),  followed  by  his  uncle. 

As  soon  as  the  door  was  closed  upon  them,  Mr.  Arnold, 
laying  his  hat  upon  the  table,  drew  from  his  vest  pocket  a 
small  piece  of  paper,  and  turning  to  Eobert,  at  the  same 
time  holding  it  out  for  his  examination,  asked  with  an  air  of 
sternness  strangely  combined  with  sorrow,  "  How  many  of 
those  have  you  put  out,  sir  ?" 

A  glance  at  the  paper  sufficed  to  show  the  wretched  man 
that  his  guilt  was  discovered,  and  for  a  few  moments  a  more 
pitiable  object  could  scarcely  be  found.  His  face  assumed 
an  ashen  pallor.  His  lips  were  half  opened,  but  they  refused 
to  utter  a  sound,  and  the  cold  sweat  started  at  every  pore 
Terror — shame — anguish — remorse,  and  guilt  were  plainly 
depicted  on  his  features,  and  he  stood  there  before  his  stem 

relative,  a  detected  felon. 
16 


242    THREE  PEE   CENT.   A  MONTH. 

"  I  ask  you,  sir,  how  many  like  this  have  you  put  out  ?" 
and  he  shook  the  paper  at  the  trembling  culprit. 

"  Oh,  uncle  !"  exclaimed  Eobert,  at  length  finding  voice, 
and  stretching  out  his  clasped  hands  in  supplication. 

"Drop  that  word,  sir.  I  am  George  Arnold,  simply. 
Come,  sir,  answer  my  question." 

"  I  cannot  say  without  referring  to  my  books.  Oh,  sir, 
for  the  love  of  God  hear  me,  and  do  not " 

"  You  need  not  make  any  appeals,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Arnold, 
sternly,  interrupting  his  nephew,  "  none  are  necessary.  Tell 
me  at  once  how  many  of  those  notes  are  out.  This  is  not 
the  only  one  I  know." 

"  I  cannot  say,  sir,"  said,  or  rather  whispered  Robert, 
smking  into  a  chair,  the  very  picture  of  despair. 

"You  can  tell  me  within  some  thousand.  A  correct, 
active  business  man  like  Robert  Arnold,  doing  such  a  flour 
ishing  business,"  he  said,  ironically,  "ought  surely  to  be 
able" 

"  Oh,  sir,  spare  me  ;  do  not,  uncle,"  said  Robert,  implor 
ingly. 

"  I  have  said  once  I  will  not  be  called  your  uncle. 
Answer  my  question  instantly,  and  as  truly  as  you  can 
speak,  or  the  consequences  may  be  more  serious  than  you 
dream  of.  I  want — I  must  have  an  immediate  answer 
Take  your  time  to  think  and  answer  me  ;"  and  Mr.  Arnold 
seated  himself  leisurely,  confronting  his  guilty — conscience- 
stricken  nephew. 

A  pause  of  a  few  moments  ensued.     So  deep — so  still — so 


A     DISCOVERY     MADE. 

solemn,  the  beating  of  either  heart  could  have  been  heard  in 
the  room.  It  was  broken  by  Robert,  who,  without  raising 
his  eyes,  said,  in  a  low,  hoarse  voice,  "  there  is  a  little  over 
ten  thousand  dollars." 

"Ten  thousand  dollars  !  In  addition  to  this  one  ?"  and 
he  held  out  the  note  which  he  still  held  in  his  hand. 

"  No,  sir,  that  is  included." 

"  To  whom  did  you  sell  them  ?  I  don't  ask  what  you 
have  done  with  the  money.  This  folly  and  frippery  answers 
that  question  ;"  and  he  looked  about  the  luxuriously  fur 
nished  room  with  an  air  of  supreme  contempt. 

At  that  moment  the  sound  of  music  from  below  reached 
the  ears  of  uncle  and  nephew — the  musicians  engaged  for 
the  evening  were  tuning  their  instruments.  On  the  ears  of 
Robert  it  grated  with  a  force,  a  harshness  which  penetrated 
to  his  very  brain.  On  the  uncle  the  impression  was  differ 
ent.  His  lips  curled  with  scorn,  and  his  face  assumed  an 
aspect  of  sternness  actually  terrible. 

"  And  it  was  for  such  follies  as  these,"  and  he  pointed 
below  whence  the  sound  proceeded,  "  you  have  sacrificed 
yourself.  I  wonder,  sir,  what  your  friends  would  say  if  they 
knew  what  was  passing  in  this  room.  But  no  matter. 
That  is  your  business,  not  mine.  Now,  sir,  I  ask  you  again 
to  whom  did  you  part  with  those  notes  ?" 

"  Mr.  Gripe,  sir,  my  broker,  got  them  all  discounted." 

"  Mr.  Gripe — eh — yes — I  don't  wonder  so  much  at  any 
thing  now,  if  you  fell  into  his  hands." 

"  Oh,  sir,  believe  me,  I  have  " 


244:    THKEE  PEE  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

"  Robert  Arnold — I  will  not  listen  to  one  word  of  extenua 
tion.  I  cannot  believe  one  word  you  hard  said.  Now 
hearken  to  me.  I  do  not  intend  to  send  you  to  the  State 
prison.  Not  for  your  own  sake,  sir,  but  for  mine.  The 
world  knows  that  you  are  my  only  brother's  only  child,  and 
I  thank  God  that  he  has  been  spared  the  agony  of  knowing 
how  deep  his  son  has  sunk  in  infamy.  I  would  not  have  his 
memory  reviled  and  trampled  on  for  your  sake.  Find  out 
where  those  notes  are.  Send  them  to  me,  and  I  will  take 
them  up.  But  one  condition  is  " 

"  Name  it,  sir — name  it.  Anything  on  earth  which  I 
can  do  to  show  my  deep  penitence  " 

"  Pshaw — don't  talk  to  me  of  your  penitence.  Your 
penitence,  sir,  is  simply  the  joy  you  feel,  because  I  have  said 
that  you  will  not  be  sent  to  the  State  prison  as  you  have 
deserved.  Your  penitence  is  only  another  name  for  shame 
that  your  guilt  has  been  discovered  and  exposed.  The  condi 
tion  I  exact  is  that  you  instantly  abandon  the  infamous 
manner  in  which  you  are  living,  for  it  is  nothing  but  swindling, 
lying  and  cheating  for  you  to  be  living  in  this  style  on  other 
people's  money.  Your  life,  sir,  is  a  living  lie.  You  are  a 
proper  mark  for  the  finger  of  scorn  from  every  honorable 
and  honest  man." 

"  1  will  do  it,  sir.     God  knows  " 

"  Do  not  take  that  holy  name  upon  your  lips,  sir.  You 
have  too  little  known  and  feared  Him,  or  you  would  not  be 
as  you  are  now,  a  guilty,  trembling  wretch.  You,  with  life 
opening  before  you  so  brightly — with  prospects  which  might 


A     DISCOVERY     MADE. 

encourage  to  the  holiest  efforts,  and  stimulate  every  energy 
of  manhood.  Oh,  for  shame — for  shame." 

"  And  you  must  wind  up  your  business  at  once.  No  man 
must  suffer  more  from  your  villany." 

"  I  will  make  an  assignment  at  once,  sir,  and  secure  you," 
said  Robert,  fairly  shaking  with  excitement. 

"  Secure  me  I"  sneered  his  uncle.  "  Do  you  think  I 
would  receive  one  dollar  of  money  earned  by  fraud  ?  I  will 
take  care  of  myself.  Procure  those  notes  immediately,  and 
send  them  to  me.  Mind,  sir — send  them,  I  do  not  wish  to  see 
you.  I  never  will  again  if  it  can  be  avoided.  From  me 
you  are  safe,  and  I  wish  you  as  easy  an  escape  from  others. 
Good  night, "sir,  and  remember" 

"  Oh,  Uncle  George  " — but  Mr.  Arnold  heeded  not  his 
words,  and  seizing  his  hat,  left  the  room  deliberately,  with 
out  turning  to  give  one  look  at  the  guilty  young  man,  who 
stood  there  spell-bound,  and  suffering  an  agony  of  spirit 
which  almost  merited  pity. 

Robert  watched  the  retreating  form  of  his  uncle  until  he 
disappeared  at  the  curve  of  the  stairs,  then  slowly  turning 
away,  he  sank  into  his  large  arm-chair,  completely  over 
powered  by  the  terrible  excitement  through  which  he  had 
just  passed. 

How  truly  had  the  words  he  uttered  to  his  wife  a  few 
days  before,  come  to  pass.  The  storm  had  in  truth  burst 
upon  him,  and  with  tenfold  more  fury  than  even  he  had 
expected.  He  had  looked  with  certainty  for  the  time  when 
his  notes  must  be  protested,  and  his  credit  ruined.  When 


246  THREE     PEE     CENT.      A     MONTH. 

his  store  must  be  closed  by  his  creditors,  when  his  house  must 
be  sold  over  his  head,  and  hie  career  of  prosperity  (for  he 
called  his  course  of  willful,  reckless  extravagance,  supported 
by  fraud  and  crime,  prosperity),  cut  short.  But  he  had  not 
looked  for  this.  He  had  expected  that  Gripe  and  his  friend 
would  have  kept  their  word — that  these  notes,  such  unde 
niable  evidences  of  his  folly  and  his  guilt,  would  have  been 
buried  from  sight,  and  that  he  would  have  been  enabled  to 
save  himself  from  detection,  and  the  just  punishment  which 
his  conscience  told  him  was  due  to  his  crimes. 

But  the  blow  had  come  so  suddenly,  so  unexpectedly, 
and  from  such  an  unlocked  for  source,  it  crushed  him  to  the 
very  earth.  And  with  this  detection  came  the  certainty 
that  every  hope  was  blasted.  He  might  reasonably  have 
expected  to  survive  his  uncle,  and  as  he  had  no  living  rela 
tive  but  himself,  to  become  a  participator  at  last  in  the 
large  fortune  which  he  had  spent  a  lifetime  in  amassing. 
But  the  discovery  of  the  relationship  between  Mrs.  Scott 
and  his  wife,  added  to  her  conduct  towards  her,  followed  by 
this  detection  of  actual  crime  on  his  part,  was  the  death 
blow  to  the  hopes  he  had  cherished. 

And  now  he  must  give  up.  He  could  no  longer  continue 
business.  He  could  no  longer  occupy  this  house  with  its 
luxuries  and  comforts.  His  tastes  had  been  so  long  pam 
pered,  that  even  with  the  recollection  of  the  narrow  uecape 
he  had  just  made  from  public  disgrace  and  punishment,  he 
could  not  forego  them  without  a  regret.  His  nature  had 
grown  purely  sensual,  and  his  tastes  artificial.  His  habits 


A     DISCOVERT     MADE.  247 

of  extravagance  were  as  much  confirmed  in  Mm,  as  that  of 
drinking  in  the  old  toper.  The  idea  of  giving  up  his  present 
mode  of  living  was  something  he  deemed  impossible.  The 
thought  of  sacrificing  the  position  he  had  attained  in  what  he 
called  society,  was  harrowing,  and  yet  there  was  no  alterna 
tive. 

Utter  and  absolute  ruin  stared  him  in  the  face.  He 
could  not  pay  sixty  cents  on  the  dollar  of  his  honest  debts, 
while  he  had  for  the  greater  part  of  the  past  year  been 
living  a  life  of  wanton  extravagance  and  foolish  dissipation, 
on  money  borrowed  not  only  on  forged  notes,  but  borrowed  at 
rates  which  could  only  lead  him  to  certain — irretrievable  ruin. 

And  he  had  reached  that  point.  Euin  stared  him  in  the 
face.  Character,  standing  and  reputation  were  utterly 
blasted,  for  who  would  trust  him  hereafter,  when  an  exami 
nation  of  his  books  would  show  that  he  had  been  paying 
from  twenty-five  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  per  cent,  for 
money  with  which  to  support  his  extravagance  ?  for  even  he 
could  not  deny,  that  had  he  been  governed  in  his  expenses 
at  home  and  in  his  business  by  judicious  prudence  and  econo 
my,  he  could  have  attained  a  substantial  and  permanent 
footing  in  the  business  world,  and  secured  in  a  few  years  an 
honorable  independence  ? 

The  train  of  his  thoughts,  which  had  continued,  he  knew 
not  how  long,  was  broken  by  the  entrance  of  his  wife,  who 
not  having  observed  his  uncle's  departure,  stole  away  from 
her  company,  which  had  now  assembled  in  considerable 
numbers,  in  the  hope  of  inducing  him  to  remain. 


248    THREE  PER  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

Two  or  three  knocks  at  the  door  being  unnoticed,  foi 
Kobert  was  so  engrossed  in  his  thoughts,  he  had  not  heard 
her,  she  pushed  it  gently  open  and  discovered  her  husband 
alone. 

He  was  seated  in  the  large,  cushioned  arm-chair,  his  chin 
buried  in  his  breast,  and  so  lost  in  thought  he  had  not  even 
heard  her  entrance. 

"  Come,  Robert,"  she  said,  laying  her  hand  gently  on  his 
shoulder,  "  your  friends  are  " 

But  she  did  not,  for  she  could  not,  finish  the  sentence. 
Her  husband  raised  his  head  slowly,  but  without  moving  his 
posture  in  the  chair,  and  his  countenance  was  so  ghastly — 
so  haggard — so  expressive  of  anguish,  she  started  back  in 
affright. 

"  In  God's  name,  Robert,  what  is  the  matter  ?  Are  yon 
sick  ?" 

He  made  her  no  reply,  but  pushed  her  back  gently  with 
his  hand,  as  she  approached  to  lean  over  him. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?"  she  repeated.  "  What  has  hap 
pened  ?  You  look  perfectly  wild.  I  would  not  have  your 
friends  see  you  now  for  the  world." 

At  the  word  friends,  Robert  shuddered  and  looked  at  her 
with  a  meaningless,  vacant  stare,  relieved  only  by  a  smile 
which  could  hardly  be  interpreted. 

"  There,  I  feel  better,"  he  said,  suddenly  springing  up, 
"  we  had  some  hard,  unpleasant  words,  and  you  know  I 
don't  like  that.  I  shall  feel  quite  well,  directly.  I  had  no 
business  to  suffer  myself  to  get  so  excited.  There,  go  down 


A     DISCOVERY     MADE.  249 

stairs  ;  I  will  be  there  directly.  Leave  me  alone  a  few 
moments  till  I  can  get  over  it ;"  and  Belle,  ever  anxious  to 
escape  from  everything  unpleasant,  gladly  obeyed  his  direc 
tion,  and  returned  to  her  gay  friends,  who  had  not  missed 
her,  but  who  had  often  inquired  for  Mr.  Arnold,  as  he  was 
the  life  and  soul  of  every  company. 

Robert  went  into  a  side  room  adjoining  the  library,  and 
cooled  his  head  with  a  hearty  wash  in  the  cold  Croton,  then 
ringing  the  bell,  he  ordered  the  servant  to  bring  him  quietly 
some  brandy.  Pouring  out  a  double  portion,  he  drank  it  off 
at  a  draught,  saying  as  he  placed  the  tumbler  on  the  table, 
"  Well,  I  will  go  out  in  blaze  of  glory,  anyhow,"  and  in  a  few 
moments  he  had  mingled  with  the  company,  where  he  never 
appeared  so  gay,  almost,  as  was  observed,  recklessly  so,  and 
never  had  he  been  more  entertaining.  He  talked  the 
loudest — laughed  the  most  heartily,  and  drank  the  deepest 
of  any  one  in  the  house.  In  fact,  he  was  in  an  unnatural 
state  of  excitement  which,  growing  with  the  food  it  fed  on, 
would  have  destroyed  his  senses  had  it  continued  much 
longer. 

The  party  broke  up  about  half-past  one,  and  when  the 
door  closed  upon  the  last  guest,  Robert  drew  his  wife  into 
the  parlor,  and  carefully  closing  all  the  doors,  said, 

"  Well,  we  did  have  an  elegant  time,  did  we  not  ?" 

"  Oh,  magnificent,"  said  his  wife,  "  and  how  well-dressed 
they  all  were,  and  everybody  seemed  to  enjoy  themselves  so 
much." 

"  Sit  down,"  he  said,  seizing  her  arm  with  a  violence  of 


250     THREE  PEE  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

which  he  was  unconscious,  but  which  caused  her  to  look  at 
him  with  astonishment,  and  something  of  auger. 

Striding  away,  he  approached  a  richly  carved  sideboard, 
on  which  were  scattered  bottles,  decanters  and  glasses  in 
confusion,  and  pouring  out  half  a  goblet  of  brandy,  he 
tossed  it  off  at  a  draught.  So  highly,  however,  was  his 
nervous  system  excited  by  the  occurrences  which  tran 
spired  in  the  early  part  of  the  night,  it  had  no  perceptible 
effect  upon  him. 

Returning  to  the  sofa  on  which  his  wife  had  remained 
seated,  and  half  lost  in  wonder,  he  said,  "  Belle,  I  told  you 
the  other  day  to  make  hay  while  the  sun  shone  ?" 

"  You  did,  but  I  really  did  not  understand  you,  Robert." 

"  I  told  you  a  storm  was  coming,"  he  said,  with  vehe 
mence,  "  I  tell  you  now  it  has  come,"  and  his  last  words 
were  uttered  almost  with  a  scream,  so  intensely  was  he 
excited. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean  even  now,"  said  his  wife, 
trembling  with  apprehension,  for  his  air  and  manner  had 
really  alarmed  her. 

"Mean — why  it's  as  plain  as  the  handwriting  on  the 
wall.  I  am  ruined — a  beggar.  You  don't  look  much  like  a 
beggar's  wife,  do  you  ?"  and  he  took  hold  of  her  costly 
dress,  and  pointed  to  the  massive  and  expensive  jewelry 
which  adorned  her  person.  "  This  don't  look  much  like  a 
beggar's  house,  does  it  ?"  he  continued,  raising  his  voice  to 
its  utmost  pitch  ;  and  he  gazed  around  upon  the  luxurious 
furniture  which  surrounded  him. 


A    DISCOVERY     MADE.  251 

"  Kobert,  what  do  you  mean  ?"  exclaimed  his  wife  ;  "  you 
cannot  be  in  earnest  ?" 

"Then  English  language  cannot  make  you  understand. 
I  tell  you  again  that  I  am  utterly  and  hopelessly  ruined.  In 
a  week  you  will  be  in  a  boarding-house  at  twelve  dollars  a 
week,  if  I  can  find  any  one  to  take  us  in,"  he  added,  in  a 
subdued  tone.  Yes,  Belle,  it's  all  over  now.  The  storm 
has  burst  with  more  terrible  fury  than  even  I  dared  to  think 
of,  and  I  am  completely  wrecked.  So  make  up  your  mind 
for  the  worst,  for  the  worst  has  come." 

Mrs.  Arnold  now  comprehended  his  full  meaning.  He 
had  warned  her,  but  she  had  not  heeded  his  warning,  for  she 
had  been  incapable  of  reflection.  But  there  was  no  mistak 
ing  his  present  words.  Euin  had  overtaken  them,  and  like 
the  Babylonian  monarch,  even  in  the  midst  of  merriment  and 
feasting,  the  handwriting  had  appeared  upon  the  wall. 

She  was  shocked  —  stunned  —  stupefied,  and  could  say 
nothing  coherently,  but  throwing  herself  back  upon  the  sofa, 
gave  vent  to  her  feelings  in  tears  and  sobs. 

"  Robert,"  she  said,  when  she  found  voice  to  speak,  "  let 
me  go  to  your  uncle.  I  am  sure  he  has  something  to  do 
with  this  sudden  change.  He  may  perhaps  " 

"  Yes,  perhaps  he  may.  I  will  tell  you  what  he  will  do  ; 
he  will  remind  you  that  you  turned*  your  step-sister  from 
your  doors  when  she  was  starving,  and  he  will  tell  you  that 
you  had  better  go  to  her,  to  try  if  her  heart  may  not  be 
warmer  and  softer  than  your  own.  And  as  for  me,  he 
might  tell  you But  no  matter.  Don't  waste  your 


252    THKEE  PEE  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

time  with  him.  Make  up  your  mind  to  leave  this  house  at 
once.  In  a  few  days,  the  house  and  everything  in  it  will  be 
seized." 

"  Why,  surely,  Robert,  they  won't  take  the  house  from 
you.  You  don't  owe  so  much  as  that  ?" 

"  Belle,  if  I  owned  five  such  houses,  and  did  not  owe  a 
cent  on  them,  I  could  not  more  than  pay  my  debts.  Thia 
house  and  all  it  holds,  would  not  pay  one-twentieth  part  of 
my  debts.  Do  as  I  bid  you.  To-morrow  begin  to  make  all 
your  preparations  to  leave,  and  don't  wait  to  be  turned  out, 
for  as  sure  as  the  sun  rises,  you  will  not  be  suffered  to 
remain  here  one  week  after  the  true  state  of  my  affairs  is 
known." 

It  is  unnecessary  to  pursue  in  detail  the  conversation  of 
the  evening.  It  was  crimination  on  one  part,  and  recrimi 
nation  on  the  other  ;  for  before  they  parted,  both  had  lost  a 
large  portion  of  their  temper.  It  was  closed,  however,  by 
Eobert,  who,  seeing  that  there  would  or  could  be  no  end, 
urged  his  wife  to  retire,  as  he  had  much  to  think  of  before 
he  dared  to  close  his  eyes. 

She  flounced  out  of  the  room  with  some  muttered 
remarks  which  he  did  not  hear,  but  it  satisfied  her,  for  she 
had  her  woman's  privilege,  the  last  word. 

When  she  had  retired,  Robert  paced  the  room  for  some 
minutes  in  deep  thought.  Then  seating  himself  at  a  centre 
table,  he  drew  towards  him  a  large  pictorial  publication 
which  lay  there,  and  with  his  pencil,  commenced  making 
some  calculations  on  the  blank  leave?. 


A     DISCOVERY     MADE.  253 

This  engrossed  his  attention  for  some  tune,  and  at  the 
close,  laying  down  his  pencil,  he  said  to  himself,  though  he 
spoke  sotto  voce,  "Well,  it  ain't  so  bad  after  all.  If  he 
takes  up  those  notes,  that  is  ten  thousand  and  over  off  my 
shoulders,  and  Gripe  must  give  up  those  country  notes.  1 
can  raise  more  on  them  for  the  present,  and  that  will  carry 
me  on  through  December.  I  declare  I  was  more  frightened 
than  hurt  ;"  and  Robert  Arnold,  who  certainly  could  not 
have  been  in  possession  of  his  full  senses,  was  so  lost  to 
all  sense  of  honor,  as  to  forget  the  great — the  inappre 
ciable  kindness  which  he  had  received  at  his  uncle's 
hands,  and  had  already  begun  to  calculate  what  benefit  he 
should  or  might  derive  from  it.  He  saw  that,  relieved  of 
this  load  of  upwards  of  ten  thousand  dollars,  and  careless  of 
the  loan  upon  the  insurance  stock,  amounting  to  nearly  five 
thousand  more  (for  he  had  not  forgotten  Mr.  Gripe's  warn 
ing  on  that  point),  he  might  feel  easy  for  some  tune — at 
least  until  January,  and  he  actually  determined  to  brazeii  it 
out. 

He  well  knew  the  dangers  and  difficulties  of  his  position 
as  regarded  his  uncle,  but  having  now  nothing  more  to  hope 
from  him,  his  thoughts  were  bent  on  other  things.  True, 
he  had  told  his  wife  that  he  was  ruined — that  she  must 
leave  her  present  home  and  comforts  immediately — that  she 
must  be  prepared  to  be  called  a  beggar's  wife,  but  then  his 
fears  had  carried  him  away  ;  he  had  magnified  the  danger 
in  which  he  stood,  and  he  could  easily  soothe  her. 

He  spent  the  night,  or  what  was  left  of  it,  in  the  parlor, 


254:    THREE  PEE  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

between  his  figures  and  his  thoughts,  and  when  the  servant 
came  in  at  an  early  hour  in  the  morning,  she  found  him 
asleep  upon  the  sofa. 

Ordering  an  early  breakfast,  his  first  thought  was  to 
arouse  his  wife,  and  calm  her  fears  ;  but  not  wishing  to 
disturb  her,  he  concluded  to  leave  that  duty  until  he 
returned  from  his  store,  and  having  hastily  partaken  of  his 
morning  meal,  he  hurried  to  his  place  of  business. 


THE     STEP-8I8TEK.  255 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

THE      STEP-SISTEK. 

THE  two  years  which  have  brought  such  changes  in 
Robert  Arnold  and  his  circumstances,  have  passed  lightly 
and  happily  over  the  other  parties  who  have  thus  far  been 
brought  to  the  reader's  notice. 

Mr.  Benson  had  continued  to  prosper,  for  it  is  rare  indeed 
that  Fortune  withholds  her  smiles  from  those  who  seek  them, 
guided .  by  truth,  integrity,  industry,  and  well-regulated 
economy.  He  had  grown  wealthy,  but  it  had  made  no 
change  in  his  character,  conduct  or  feelings.  His  circle  of 
acquaintance  had  been  very  much  enlarged,  and  his  family 
had  made  many  friends  ;  but  old  ones  were  not  forsaken,  and 
among  them  all,  Mrs.  Hardman  and  Susan  Scott  ranked  the 
dearest  and  nearest.  The  latter  by  her  sweetness  of  temper, 
her  unwavering  fidelity  to  every  duty,  and  her  modest  bearing 
in  prosperity,  had  won  the  heart  of  Mrs.  Benson,  who  could 
appreciate  true  worth,  and  their  acquaintance  had  grown 
into  a  friendship  of  the  closest  intimacy. 

Mr.  Scott  still  occupied  the  cottage  vacated  by  Mr.  Ben- 


256          THREE      PEE     CENT.      A     \IONTH. 

son  when  he  moved  into  Mr.  Arnold's  house  at  his  reqnest, 
and  it  was  a  paradise  to  himself  and  family.  It  was  the 
very  perfection  of  neatness  and  order,  and  Uncle  George, 
for  by  that  appellation  he  was  now  invariably  greeted  by 
both  families,  passed  many  happy  hours  in  their  society. 
He  continued  to  manifest  the  warmest  interest  in  Susan  and 
her  husband,  and  never  paid  them  a  visit  without  bringing 
some  token  of  his  love. 

Susan  was  seated  in  the  neat  little  parlor  of  her  dear  cot 
tage  home.  The  children  had  been  dressed  and  sent  to 
school,  and  the  regular  household  duties  having  been  cared 
for,  she  seated  herself  at  her  sewing,  for  she  never  passed  an 
hour  ii)  idleness. 

She  was  sewing  and  singing  away  merrily — yes,  merrily, 
for  she  was  as  happy  as  her  heart  could  wish.  She  had  the 
kindest,  most  affectionate  and  devoted  of  husbands,  who  had 
been  as  it  were  restored  to  her  from  the  jaws  of  the  grave. 
She  had  lovely  and  loving  children,  and  she  had  a  dearly 
loved  and  most  generous  benefactor,  whose  watchful  care 
over  her  was  more  like  that  of  a  father  than  a  friend. 

A  ring  at  the  door  bell  startled  her  from  pleasant 
thoughts,  and  glancing  at  the  clock,  she  saw  that  it  was 
only  a  little  after  ten  o'clock.  , 

"  This  is  an  early  call,"  she  said,  half  aloud  ;  "  I  wonder 
who  it  can  be  at  this  hour." 

"  A  lady  to  see  you,"  said  her  maid  of  all  work,  opening 
the  parlor  door. 

'•  A  lady  to  see  me,"  she  said,  dropping  her  work,  and 


THE      STEP-SISTER.  257 

hastily  rising  from  her  chair,  "  Oh,  it  must  be  dear  Mrs. 
Benson.  I  hope  none  of  the  family  are  sick.  Show  her  in, 
of  course,"  and  she  advanced  half-way  to  the  door  to  greet 
the  expected  and  much  loved  friend  ;  but  she  started  back 
in  surprise,  as  a  lady  closely  veiled  entered  the  room  with 
hesitating  steps,  and  the  door  was  closed  after  her. 

For  an  instant  no  word  was  spoken,  but  when  the 
stranger  raised  her  veil  and  disclosed  the  features  of  Belle 
Arnold,  Mrs.  Scott  started  back  with  an  expression  of 
astonishment,  perhaps  not  unmingled  with  anger. 

Another  glance,  however,  softened  her  feelings,  for  Belle 
stood  there  the  very  picture  of  anguish  and  despair.  She 
had  uttered  no  word,  but  there  was  an  appeal  in  her  agony 
and  woe,  which  went  direct  to  Susan's  heart.  Before  she 
could  utter  one  word  of  greeting,  Belle  sank  into  a  chair 
near  which  she  had  been  standing,  and  covering  her  face 
with  her  veil,  gave  way  to  an  agony  of  tears. 

Susan  made  no  attempt  to  calm  her,  for  she  knew  not 
what  to  say,  and  suffered  her  to  weep  on  uninterrupted. 

A  few  moments  of  this  most  painful  silence  ensued,  broken 
only  by  the  sobs  of  her  visitor,  but  at  length  she  checked 
them  with  a  violent  eifort,  and  rising,  approached  Mrs. 
Scott,  who  was  still  standing.  "  Mrs.  Scott,"  she  said,  in  a 
voice  trembling  with  emotion,  "  I  do  not  know  why  I  have 
dared  to  come  to  you,  but  I  have  felt  that  you  alone  can 
aid  us  in  this  hour  of  darkness  and  despair.  Oh  Susan,  for 
the  love  of  God  who  has  been  so  merciful  to  you,  for  the 
sake  of  my  helpless  and  unoffending  children,  do  not  turn 
me  from  you."  ,« 


258     THBEE  PER  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

"  Surely  Mrs.  Arnold,  you  labor  under  some  great  mistake 
In  what  way  can  I  possibly  be  of  any  service  to  you  ?"  and 
though  perhaps  she  did  not  mean  it,  there  was  something  of 
a  taunting  expression  in  her  tone. 

"I  know — I  feel  that  I  deserve  such  words  and  worse 
from  you,  but  oh,  Susan,  for  the  sake  of  our  common 
womanhood,  which  I  once  forgot,  do  not  spurn  me  now. 
Susan,  dear  Susan,"  she  continued,  stretching  out  her  clasped 
hands,  "  do  not  recall  the  past.  I  was  wrong.  I  was 
wicked.  I  was  cruel  and  selfish,  but  I  am  abundantly  pun 
ished  in  this  moment  of  deep  humiliation  and  sorrow.  I  am 
here  to  see  you  as  a  suppliant.  I  may  soon  be  what  you 
once  was,  and  yon  alone  can  help  me.  For  the  sake  of  my 
innocent,  unoffending  children,  do  it,  or  I  shall  go  mad." 

"  Sit  down,  Belle,"  said  Susan,  with  more  of  feeling  than 
her  visitor  deserved,  for  her  earnest  appeal  and  evident 
misery  had  reached  her  heart.  "  I  shall  be  glad  to  serve  you. 
I  harbor  no  evil  thoughts.  God  knows  I  have  been  so 
unhappy  myself,  I  should  be  wicked  indeed  if  I  did  not  feel 
for  those  who  are  suffering  as  I  have  done.  What  can  I 
possibly  do  for  you  ?" 

"  First,  Susan,  try  and  bring  your  heart  to  forgive  my 
cruel  unkindness  to  you." 

"  Oh,  don't  speak  of  that,  Belle.  I  am  very  happy  now, 
and  I  only  remember  the  past  as  teaching  me  gratitude  to 
Heaven  which  has  so  changed  my  lot.  I  bear  you  no  il! 
will,  Belle — Heaven  knows  I  do  not.  But  how  can  I  dc 
anything  for  you  ?" 

"  Susan,  you  can  do  everything.     I  ought  to  be  ashamed 


THE      STEP-SISTER. 

to  look  you  in  the  face,  much  less  to  ask  a  favor  from  you, 
but  you  are  the  only  one  on  earth  to  whom  I  can  now 
appeal.  My  husband's  uncle  was  at  our  house  last  night. 
There  was  something  terrible  which  occurred  between  them. 
All  I  know  is,  that  after  he  had  gone;  my  husband  appeared 
nearly  crazy.  I  am  sure  it  was  something  his  uncle  said  or 
did  which  made  him  feel  so,  for  he  did  not  act  so  before. 

"  Now,  for  heaven's  sake — for  the  sake  of  my  children, 
see  Mr.  Arnold.  I  know  he  thinks  much  of  you,  and  that 
you  have  influence  over  him.  For  their  sakes  see  him,  and 
ask  him  not  to  injure  my  husband.  I  don't  know  what  it,  is 
between  them.  I  do  not  even  guess,  but  I  know  there  is  some- 
thing  which  has  driven  my  husband  almost  out  of  his  mind. 
Will  you  see  him  ?  Will  you  ask  him,  if  my  husband  owes 
him,  to  be  merciful,  and  if  he  will  give  him  time,  he  will  be 
paid  all  ?  Do  not  let  us  be  turned  out  of  house  and  home 
upon  the  streets.  Oh,  Susan,  though  I  have  forgotten  what 
we  once  were  to  each  other,  forgive  my  cruelty,  and  for  the 
sake  of  my  children,  if  not  for  mine,  do  aid  me  now." 

Belle  Arnold  had  spoken  so  rapidly — so  earnestly,  she 
had  been  so  carried  away  by  the  excitement  of  the  occasion, 
by  the  remembrance  of  her  own  present  troubles,  she  had 
almost  forgotten  that  the  one  to  whom  she  was  now  a  sup 
pliant,  had  once  been  ordered — nay,  almost  thrust  from  her 
own  house,  and  that  at  a  time  when  the  marks  of  poverty 
and  the  deepest  distress  were  but  too  plainly  visible. 

Susan  Scott  had  listened  calmly,  but  not  without  deep 
interest.  She  had  suffered  too  much  herself  not  to  feel  for 


260    THKEE  PER  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

the  woes  of  others,  and  the  generous  promptings  of  her 
heart  prompted  her  to  extend  the  heartiest  sympathy  to  her 
now  unhappy  kinswoman.  She  forgot  her  cruelty — her 
rudeness — her  abuse — her  neglect — forgot  everything,  but 
that  she  was  in  distress,  and  had  appealed  to  her  for 
assistance. 

"Anything  I  can  do,  Mrs.  Arnold,  I  will  do  very  cheer 
fully.  But  really  you  overrate  my  position  and  influence 
with  Mr.  Arnold.  He  is  my  kind  friend  and  generous  bene 
factor  for  my  poor  mother's  sake,  and  I  almost  dread  to 
approach  him  on  a  subject  with  which  I  have  really  no  busi 
ness  to  meddle.  No,  do  not  misunderstand  me,"  she  said, 
seeing  that  Belle  was  about  to  interrupt  her,  "  I  do  not 
intend  to  withdraw  my  promise,  but  I  do  assure  you  little 
good  will  come  of  it.  I  know  him  well.  If  your  husband 
has  injured  or  wronged  him,  he  will  forgive  him  from  the 
generous  impulses  of  his  own  good  heart.  I  know  that  he 
will  not  harm  him." 

"  Oh,  Susan,  there  is  something  terrible  behind  which  J 
do  not  know.  I  never  saw  my  husband  in  such  a  state  of 
feeling  in  my  life,  and  I  am  sure  it  was  caused  by  something 
which  had  occurred  between  his  uncle  and  himself.  Do — 
do  try  and  soothe  him,  for  without  some  aid  we  shall  be 
beggars.  We  shall  be  turned  out  of  house  and  home,  and 
where  we  are  to  go  Heaven  only  knows.  Do,  dear  Susan, 
for  the  love  of  Heaven  assist  us  now." 

Mrs.  Scott  could  scarcely  restrain  a  smile  as  Mrs.  Arnold 
applied  to  her  such  endearing  appellations,  for  the  remein- 


THE     8TEP-8ISTEE.  261 

brance  of  past  wrongs  was  not  entirely  effaced.  She  did 
not,  however,  make  any  direct  reply  to  this  appeal,  but 
renewed  her  promise  to  do  all  in  her  power  to  serve  her  ;  and 
with  repeated  protestations  of  gratitude  and  affection,  Mrs. 
Arnold  took  her  leave. 

"  I  wonder  if  that  woman  has  any  real  feelings,"  said  Mrs. 
Scott  to  herself,  as  she  donned  her  hat  and  shawl,  prepara 
tory  to  a  visit  to  Mr.  Arnold's  store,  for  she  had  resolved 
to  keep  her  promise  to  Mrs.  Arnold  ;  "  if  she  has,  she  is 
strangely  altered.  No  matter.  I  will  do  my  duty  ;  Mr. 
Arnold  won't  more  than  scold,"  and  she  could  not  forbear 
smiling  as  she  thought  of  the  possibility  of  receiving  a  scold 
ing  from  him." 

"  What  on  earth  brings  you  here,  Susan  ?"  said  Mr.  Ar 
nold,  as  Mrs.  Scott  entered  his  private  office,  where  he  was 
engaged  writing  some  letters  ;  and,  rising,  he  kissed  her  fore 
head,  shook  her  hand  with  warm  cordiality,  and  drawing  a 
chair  close  to  his  own,  desired  her  to  be  seated,  a  request 
which  she  obeyed  with  an  air  of  embarrassment.  This  at 
tracted  his  attention,  and  peering  closely  into  her  face,  he 
strove  to  read  her  purpose  there  ;  but  it  spoke  nothing  from 
which  he  could  gather  any  information,  so  he  addressed  him- 
self  to  her  tongue — 

"  Come,  my  dear,  out  with  it.  There  is  something  unusual 
on  foot  this  morning,  or  you  would  never  have  found  the 
courage  to  come  down  here  alone.  Nothing  wrong  at 
home  ?  husband  not  gone  adrift  ?" 

"Oh,  no,  no,"  she  replied  hastily  and  earnestly,  half 


262    THREE  PEE  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

pained  that  her  husband  should  be  for  an  instant  the  object 
of  suspicion,  for  he  was  so  true  and  kind,  so  steady,  sober, 
and  industrious,  the  very  thought  was  a  wrong  to  him,  which 
her  love  resented.  "  Nothing  of  that  kind,  Mr.  Arnold  ;  I 
came  down  to  see  you  because  I  promised  I  would,  and  you 
must  forgive  me  if  I  have  done  wrong." 

"  As  I  know  you  have  not  done  any  wrong  intentionally, 
my  dear,  you  are  already  forgiven.  Come,  don't  be  afraid 
to  speak." 

"  Well,  sir,  your  nephew's  wife,  my — " 

"There,  stop,  I  know  all  about  it.  And  you  came  down 
on  her  account  ?" 

"  At  her  request,  to  implore  you,  for  the  sake  of  his  wife 
and  innocent  children  not  to  injure  him." 

"  I  wonder  what  that  scoundrel  has  been  telling  his  wife, 
that  she  should  dare  to  go  to  Susan  after  her  treatment  to 
her,"  he  muttered.  "  What  did  she  tell  you,  Susan  ?"  he 
asked  mildly,  though  his  brow  was  heavily  clouded. 

"  Only  that  she  feared  her  husband  had  wronged  you  some 
how,  and  that  she  dreaded  lest  you  might  ruin  him.  She 
said  that  unless  you  interfered,  they  must  be  turned  into  the 
street.  Dear  Mr.  Arnold,  if  you  can,  without  wronging 
yourself,  do,  please  do — " 

"  Susan,  listen  to  me  a  moment.  You  are  a  noble- 
hearted,  forgiving  woman,  and  I  did  not  need  your  entrea 
ties  or  your  example  to  induce  me  to  forgive  a  wrong.  My 
nephew  has  wronged  me  most  grievously,  but  he  has  wronged 
himself  worse.  He  knows  that  T  had  no  intention  of 


THE     8TEP-8I8TEE.  263 

harming  him,  On  the  contrary,  I  shall  have  to  pay  over 
ten  thousand  dollars  to  save  him  frorc  well  merited  punish 
ment.  I  mean  to  do  it,  not  for  the  sake  of  his  wife,  for  I 
am  afraid  she  is  a  cold,  heartless,  selfish,  unfeeling  woman  ; 
nor  for  the  sake  of  his  children,  for  whom  he  has  cared  so 
little,  he  has  not  hesitated  to  commit  an  act  which,  if  known, 
would  stamp  them  with  an  indelible  stain  of  infamy  ;  nor 
yet  for  his  own  sake,  for  I  consider  him  lost  to  all  sense  of 
honor,  to  all  feelings  which  belong  to  honest  manhood." 

"But  I  shall  save  him  for  my  brother's  sake.  He  is  my 
brother's  only  child,  and  for  the  sake  of  his  memory  I  will 
not  permit  him  to  suffer  from  his  own  follies  and  vices.  1 
told  him  as  much  as  that  last  night,  and  it  is  evident  to  me, 
from  the  fact  of  his  wife's  calling  on  you,  that  he  has  not 
told  her  the  whole  truth.  I  shall  not  tell  you,  because  it  is 
not  necessary  for  you  to  know  it.  This  much  I  will  only  say, 
that  I  have  not  the  most  remote  idea  of  doing  anything 
which  could  bring  ruin  or  disgrace  upon  Robert  Arnold. 
His  ruin  will  come  fast  enough  without  any  aid  from  me,  and 
if  his  family  are  beggared,  it  will  have  been  only  through 
his  wicked  and  most  reckless  extravagance  ;  so  make  your 
self  easy,  and  if  Mrs.  Arnold  should  call  upon  you,  you  may 
repeat  what  I  have  said.  But  stop — I  would  rather  not 
have  her  see  you  again.  You  have  too  good  and  pure  a 
heart  to  be  brought  in  contact  with  such  a  cold  and  selfish 
woman." 

"  But,  Mr.  Arnold,  she  is  very  unhappy,  and — " 

"  She  deserves  to  be,"  said  he,  finishing  her  sentence.  "  J 


264          THREE     PER     CENT.      A     MONTH. 

will  write  a  brief  note  and  send  it  to  her.  You  shall  read 
it  before  I  send  it,  and  I  think  you  would  best  consult  your 
own  comfort  by  not  holding  any  further  conversation  with 
her  on  this  subject.  I  shall  so  state  in  my  letter,"  and  turn 
ing  to  his  writing-desk,  Mr.  Arnold  hastily  penned  the  fol 
lowing  explicit  note : 

"  Mr.  George  Arnold  begs  to  inform  Mrs.  Robert  Arnold, 
that  he  has  no  desire  or  intention  of  d.nng  anything  which 
can  injure  her  husband,  and  Mr.  Robert  Arnold  ia  fully 
aware  of  the  fact.  Mr.  Arnold  desires  further,  that  if  Mrs. 
Robert  Arnold  has  any  communication  to  make  to  him,  she 
will  make  it  through  some  other  person  than  Susan  Scott." 

"  There,  Susan — that  will  satisfy  her  for  to-day,  and  you 
will  have  fulfilled  your  promise.  I  will  send  this  to  her 
house.  Do  you  go  home  and  tend  the  children,  and  leave 
men's  business  for  men  to  transact." 

"  I  am  not  scolding,"  he  added,  seeing  her  countenance 
fall  under  his  implied  rebuke.  "  Your  goodness  of  heart  has 
led  you  to  interfere  in  a  matter  of  which  you  are  perfectly 
ignorant,  and  I  do  not  blame  you.  There,  go  home  now,  1 
am  busy.  Wait  one  moment ;"  and  going  to  the  door,  he 
called  one  of  the  clerks,  who  went  away,  but  soon  returned, 
handing  him  a  roll  of  bills. 

"It  is  about  time  for  whiter  clothes  all  around.  Take 

that,  Susan,  and Why,  what  on  earth  do  you  mean  ?" 

he  exclaimed,  seeing  her  blush  and  hesitate.  "  Do  you 


THE     8TEP-8I8TEK.  265 

know  ?" — and  he  began  to  grow  a  little  red  in  the  face,  as  he 
saw  that  her  eyes  were  filling  with  tears.  "  There,  take  it, 
and  hold  your  tongue  ;"  and  as  he  placed  the  roll  of  bills  in 
the  hand  which  he  shook  warmly,  he  kissed  her  glowing 
cheek  with  the  affection  of  a  father. 

"  Now  go  home  as  soon  as  your  feet  can  carry  you.  Who 
knows  but  the  house  may  have  run  away  or  burned  down 
since  you  have  been  gone  ?"  And  in  another  moment  he 
was  alone. 

"  That  fellow  must  be  an  infernal  scoundrel,"  said  Mr. 
Arnold,  half  aloud,  as  he  turned  to  resume  the  writing  which 
had  been  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  his  protegee. 


266    THREE  PER  CENT.  A  MONTH, 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

A  RECONCILIATION. 

WHEN  Susan  Scott  left  the  office  of  her  friend  and  bene 
factor,  she  was  in  a  singular  frame  of  inind.  She  felt 
inclined  to  be  half  angry  with  herself  for  having  interfered 
in  that  which  did  not  at  all  concern  her.  She  feared  that 
Bhe  might  have  given  cause  of  offence  to  Mr.  Arnold,  and 
that  she  deserved  his  anger. 

But  above  these  feelings  arose  those  which  have  never 
been  known  to  fail  or  despair  in  the  darkest  hour.  The 
feelings  which  make  woman  the  true  ruler  of  the  world,  the 
feelings  of  noble,  generous  sympathy — of  sorrow  for  the  mis 
fortunes  which  had  overtaken  a  fellow  being,  the  earnest 
wish  to  serve — the  utter  forgetfulness  of  self — the  strong 
desire  to  do  good. 

The  memory  of  past  wrongs  had  faded  away.  She  had 
already  forgotten  that  Belle  Arnold  had  turned  from  her  in 
her  darkest  hour  of  distress,  and  had  refused,  when  it  was  in 
her  power,  to  extend  to  her  the  assistance  so  greatly  needed. 
She  forgot  the  cruelty  and  injustice  of  the  step-father — the 
coldness,  the  contempt,  the  harshness  of  the  step-sister. 


A     RECONCILIATION.  267 

She  remembered  only  that  Belle  Harding's  father  had 
been  her  mother's  husbaud,  and  that  Belle  Arnold  was  now 
iii  distress. 

"  He  won't  be  angry — I  know  he  won't — I  hope  he  won't,'' 
she  said  to  herself  as  she  beckoned  to  a  stage  which  was 
passing.  "  I  will  do  it ;  God  knows  I  would  not  have  her 
suffer  as  I  have  done  ;"  and  as  the  omnibus  stopped,  she 
entered,  with  the  resolution  to  go  at  once  and  see  Mrs. 
Arnold,  her  heart  assuring  her  that  she  was  not  deserving 
condemnation. 

•"  Tell  Mrs.  Arnold  a  friend  wishes  to  see  her,"  said  Susan 
to  the  servant  who  answered  her  summons,  and  who  had 
stated  that  she  believed  her  mistress  was  out.  "  Here, 
stop  ;  tell  her  Susan  Scott  wishes  to  see  her,"  she  added,  as 
the  servant  was  about  to  ascend  the  stairs. 

"  Here,  here,  never  mind,  Martha,"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Arnold  from  the  head  of  the  stairs  "up  here."  And  Susan 
fairly  sprang  up  the  stairs,  where  she  was  met  by  Mrs. 
Arnold,  who  was  in  dishabille,  and  who  received  her  with  a 
warmth,  a  cordiality,  an  earnestness  and  a  sincerity  strangely 
in  contrast  with  those  which  memory  could  have  called  up. 

But  Susan  Scott  had  no  time  to  recall  the  past,  even  had 
she  been  so  inclined.  "  Here,  in  here,"  said  Belle,  seizing 
her  hand,  and  fairly  dragging  her  into  her  own  apartment, 
and  hastily  closing  the  door.  "  Not  one  word  until  I  have 
spoken,  Susan,"  said  Mrs.  Arnold,  seating  her  visitor  in  a 
large  arm  chair.  "  I  don't  want  to  hear  one  word  until  I 
have  said  what  my  heart  has  prompted." 


268     THKEE  PER  OEKT.   A  MONTH. 

Mrs.  Scott  looked  up,  as  well  she  might,  at  this  reception. 
Mrs.  Arnold  stood  before  her,  the  very  personification  of 
high  excitement.  Her  cheeks  were  flushed — her  eyes  were 
flashing,  and  her  whole  form  seemed  dilated  with  emotion, 

"  Susan,"  she  said,  drawing  a  chair  close  to  her  visitor— 
"  have  you  seen  Mr.  Arnold  ?" 

"  I  have — I  have  just  come  from  his  store." 

"  I  am  sorry — very  sorry." 

"  Sorry,  Belle,  and  why  ?" 

"  I  am  sorry  that  I  asked  you.  Oh, 'Susan,  if  you  knew 
the  feelings  that  have  oppressed  me  since  I  saw  you  this 
•morning  you  would  pity,  and  forgive  me." 

"  Pity  you,  Belle,  I  do  ;  I  have  nothing  to  forgive." 

"  Nothing  to  forgive,  Susan  !"  said  Mrs.  Arnold,  and 
drawing  her  chair  closer,  and  taking  her  hand  ;  "  nothing  to 
forgive.  Do  you  forget  that  you  were  turned  out  of ?" 

"  Hush  !  Belle,  you  are  talking  wildly.  I  do  not  re 
member  anything  which  you  could  wish  me  to  forget." 

"  You  do  not  remember  that  when  you  were  cold  and 
hungry,  and  when  you  appealed  to  me  for  the  sake  of  your 
suffering,  starving  children,  I " 

"  Belle,  I  tell  you  I  remember  nothing  which  you  or  I 
ought  to  forget.  Now  let  me  say  in  a  few  words  why  I  am 

"  No,  Susan,  not  until  I  have  craved  your  pardon  for  my 
unfeeling  conduct.  Not  until  I  have  expressed  to  you 
my  deep  sorrow  for  the  inhumanity  I  displayed  to  you  when 
you  wore  suffering.  Not  until  I  have  told  you,  that  now  my 


A      RECONCILIATION.  269 

owu  heart  is  to  be  tried  in  the  furnace  of  affliction,  do  I 
sorely  regret  my  past  follies  and " 

"But,  Belle— " 

"  Do  not  interrupt  me,  Susan,"  said  Mrs.  Arnold,  drawing 
her  chair  closer  still  to  her  visitor.  "  I  have  been  foolish, 
and  wicked)  and  thoughtless,  yes  even  callous  to  the  suffer 
ings  of  others,  but,  thank  Heaven,  it  is  not  too  late  to  re 
pent,  nor  am  I  too  old  to  amend.  And  let  this  be  the  first 
evidence  that  my  nature  is  not  so  utterly  changed  from  that 
of  my  sex,  that  I  earnestly  and  sincerely  ask  your  pardon  for 
my  past  conduct.  I  have  passed  the  hour  since  I  saw  you 
this  morning,  in  thought.  I  have  reflected  upon  the  past ; 
I  see  how  "little  of  happiness  I  have  enjoyed,  how  much  1 
have  actually  thrown  away.  Do  you  help  me  to  continue 
in  the  resolutions  I  have  formed,  by  saying  that  you  do  for 
give  me — for,  to  feel  that  I  am  pardoned  by  the  one  to 
whom  I  have  done  so  great  a  wrong,  will  cheer  and  encou 
rage  me  in  the  path  which  I  must  now  tread.  You  do,  Su 
san,  you  have  forgiven  me  ?" 

"  From  my  inmost  heart !"  exclaimed  Susan  with  moisten 
ed  eyes,  moved  to  tears  by  the  deep  distress  of  her  unhappy 
relative. 

"  I  knew  you  would.  When  I  saw  you  this  morning, 
when  I  dared  to  appeal  to  you  for  aid,  I  wonder  that  you 
did  not  spurn  me  from  yon,  as  I  once  did  to  yourself.  Oh, 
Susan,  what  a  lesson  has  been  taught  me  this  day,  and  how 
I  thank  you  for  allowing  me  to  feel  that  I  am  forgiven  !" 

"  There,  Belle,  I  hope  you  have  done  ;  you  really  distress 


270    THREE  PER  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

me,"  said  Mrs.  Scott,  wiping  her  eyes.  "  Pray  do  not  talk 
in  that  manner  any  more.  Now  let  me  tell  you  briefly  that 
I  saw  Mr.  Arnold.  I  saw  that  he  did  not  like  my  inter 
ference,  but  he  was  very  kind,  and  he  assured  me  that  no 
thing  was  further  from  his  intentions  than  to  harm  your  hus 
band.  He  has  written  to  that  effect  to  you,  but  I  could 
not  refrain  from  being  the  bearer  of  intelligence  which  I 
knew  must  be  so  pleasing.  But  are  matters  really  so  bad, 
BeUe  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know  anything,  except  that  my  husband  was 
almost  distracted  last  night.  He  told  me  that  we  were  beg 
gars,  and  from  the  fact  that  this  occurred  immediately  upon 
the  visit  of  his  uncle,  I  took  it  for  granted,  that  it  must  have 
some  connection  with  him.  I  learned  something  of  you  be 
fore  this,  and  found  you  out  to-day  by  sending  a  servant  to 
Mr.  Benson's  house,  for  we  had  heard  that  your  husband 
was  his  foreman.  I  felt,  I  know  not  why,  that  you  might 
have  some  influence  with  Mr.  Arnold,  and  for  the  sake  of 
my  husband  and  children,  I  dared  to  call  on  one  whom  I  had 
so  deeply " 

"  There,"  and  Mrs.  Scott  placed  her  hand  across  Mrs.  Ar 
nold's  mouth.  "  You  forget  yourself.  I  am  truly  thankful 
you  called  on  me,  for  it  has  enabled  me  to  prove  to  my  own 
heart,  that  I  do  not  forget  God's  goodness  in  raising  up  such 
good  friends  for  me  in  my  hours  of  trouble,  suffering  and 
want." 

Susan  Scott  remained  with  Mrs.  Arnold  nearly  two  hours, 
and  in  that  time  the  heart  of  each  had  been  drawn  more 


A      RECONCILIATION.  271 

closely  together.  Susan  had  suffered,  and  knew  how  to  feel 
for  others.  Belle  was  suffering  and  needed  sympathy,  and 
from  that  hour  commenced  a  renewal  of  feelings  which  con 
tinued  unimpaired  through  after  years. 

Of  the  subject  of  their  conversation,  it  is  not  necessary 
now  to  speak.     It  will  be  develoDed  in  due  time. 


272     THREE  PEE  CENT.   A   MONTH 


CHAPTFR  XXVI. 

THE    FAST   MAN    GOING    DOWN    HILL. 

MR.  GRIPE  had  scarcely  seated  himself  in  his  office,  when 
the  door  was  opened,  and  immediately  closed  npon  Robert 
Arnold. 

"  Is  your  boy  in,  Gripe  ?"  he  asked  in  a  calm  voice. 

"  No — I  have  sent  him  to  the  post-office." 

"  Well,  so  mnch  the  better.  I  asked  because  I  could  not 
see  at  first.  Gripe,  who  is  the  man  that  took  those  notes 
of  mine  the  other  day  ?" 

"  Which  ones  do  you  mean  ?  The  one  on  which  I  re 
newed  the  two  thousand  loan  for  thirty  days  ?" 

"  No — the  seventy-six  hundred  dollars  which  he  was  to 
put  in  the  country  bank,  and  which  you  said  I  should  never 
hear  of  again  until  they  were  due." 

"  I  dpn't  exactly  like  to  tell  my " 

"  Look  here,  Mr.  Gripe,"  said  Mr.  Arnold,  with  assumed 
calmness,  but  with  a  sternness  of  voice  and  manner  which 
caused  the  broker  to  look  at  him  very  earnestly,  "  Yon 
told  me,  nay  you  pledged  yourself  that  those  notes  should 
never  be  heard  of " 


THE    FAST    MAN    GOING    DOWN    HILL.      275 

"  You  don't  mean  that  he  has ?" 

"  I  mean  that  my»uncle  has  one  of  those  very  notes  now. 
I  must  know  who  that  man  is.  Those  notes  must  be  sent  in 
at  once,  or  there  will  be  such  trouble  as  you,  nor  I,  nor  he, 
could  dream  of." 

"  You  don't  say  he  has  passed  those  notes  out." 

"  I  tell  you  again  my  uncle  has  one  of  them,  and  he  says 
they  must  all  be  sent  in  to-day.  He  will  discount  them  at 
once,  but  they  must  be  sent  in.  He  will  not  have  his  name 
on  the  street — you  know  what  I  mean  ?" 

"  Well,  that  is  very  strange,"  said  Mr.  Gripe,  half  mus 
ingly,  for  he  was  already  mentally  calculating  how  much  he 
might  possibly  make  by  the  operation  for  himself.  "  You 
say  your  uncle  will  discount  them  ?" 

"  Every  one,  and  he  wants  them  to-day,"  said  Roberi, 
hoarsely.  "  You  can,  you  must  get  them.  You  know  your 
party,  and  I  don't  care  to  meet  him  as  I  feel  just  now.  If 
I  were  to  meet  him,  I  would  not  be  answerable  for  the  con 
sequences.  I  tell  you  those  notes  must  be  got  off  the  street 
to-day.  If  your  man  has  sold  them  instead  of  putting  them 
in  the  bank,  as  he  promised,  they  must  be  found.  I  say 
must,  Gripe,  and  now  you  know  what  I  mean.  You  have 
deceived  me." 

"  Me — Oh,  Mr.  Arnold  !"  said  the  honest  broker,  depre- 
catingly. 

"Never  mind  excuses.  You  pledged  your  word  that 
the  notes  would  be  put  in  the  country  banks,  and " 

"  Mr.  Butman  said  they  should." 
18 


274    THEEE  PEE  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

"  Bntman,  eh!  I  have  heard  of  him.  Now  I  know  yonr 
party.  Do  you  see  him  at  your  earliest  moment,  get  those 
notes  from  him,  and  take  them  to  my  uncle.  He  will  cash 
them,  but  it  must  be  done  at  once." 

"  I  will  see  him  as  soon  as  I  can.     Is  your  uncle  angry  ?" 

"  Angry  I"  said  Robert,  with  an  expresssion  whioh  the 
broker  could  not  interpret. 

"  I  can't  imagine  why  he  parted  with  those  notes,"  said 
Mr.  Gripe,  musingly.  "  I  don't  know  what  could  have 
induced  him.  He  promised  me  faithfully " 

"  Never  mmd  his  promises.  He  had  first  the  seventy-six 
hundred,  and  then  the  twenty-seven  hundred  on  the  other 
renewal  of  the  thirty  day  loan.  Ten  thousand  three  hundred. 
My  uncle  has  one  of  the  nineteen  hundred  dollar  notes,  and 
do  you  get  the  balance.  He  will  discount  them,  and  per 
haps  Mr.  Butman  may  be  satisfied  with  that  profit." 

At  this  moment  the  door  of  the  office  was  opened  ;  and 
as  if  to  verify  the  old  adage,  "  Talk  of  the,"  &c.,  the  gentle 
man  whose  name  has  just  been  mentioned,  entered. 

"  Let  me  manage  this,"  said  Mr.  Gripe,  in  a  whispered 
voice.  "  I  can  make  a  better  bargain  with  him  than  you 
can." 

Robert  merely  nodded  his  head,  and  moved  his  chair  away 
from  the  broker's  desk. 

"  Ah,  I  see  your  are  engaged,"  said  Mr.  Butmau,  as 
he  entered.  (The  reader  will  please  not  forget  the  ahs.) 

"  No,  no,  come  in.  I  was  wishing  to  see  you.  This  gen 
tleman,"  and  he  nodded  to  Mr.  Arnold,  "  won't  mind  what 


THE    FAST    MAN     GOING    DOWN    HILL.     275 

we  are  saying  ;"  and  he  looked  at  Robert  with  a  look  which 
he  meant  to  be  very  expressive,  but  which  must  have  been 
sadly  misunderstood,  for  his  lip  curled  very  sensibly,  though 
Mr.  Gripe  could  not  perceive  it. 

"  Sit  down,  Mr.  Butman,"  said  the  broker,  rising  and 
tendering  his  only  chair.  "  Oh,  never  mind  me,"  he  added, 
as  Mr.  Butman  made  a  motion  as  if  to  decline  the  invitation, 
"  I  am  glad  enough  to  stand  up  once  hi  a  while.  Mr.  But 
man,  do  you  think  you  could  command  those  Arnold  notes 
you  got  discounted  a  couple  of  weeks  ago  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  Mr.  Gripe;  the  fact  is,  the  banks  there  did  not 
like  the  paper  as  much  as  I  thought  they  would  ;  and  as  I 
had  promised  the  money,  I  gave  my  own  notes,  and  kept 
them,  because  I  believe  the  endorser  is  perfectly  good. 
I  don't  hear  much  good  of  the  drawer.  They  say  he  is 
an  ex " 

"  Never  mind  that  now.     Have  you  got  the  notes  ?" 

"  Why,  one  of  them  I  parted  with  the  other  day  to  a 
party  from  whom  I  bought  some  old  building  materials.  He 
seemed  to  know  the  paper  very  well,  and  I  gave  him  one  in 
part  payment.  I  have  got  the  others.  But  I  know  he  put 
that  one  in  the  bank." 

"  Well,  I  can  sell  them  well  for  you  to-day.  I  have  had 
a  party  here  who  told  me  if  you  ever  got  any  of  that  paper, 
he  would  take  it  at  one  per  cent." 

For  an  instant  Mr.  Butman  remained  silent.  He  was 
calculating  how  much  he  would  or  might  make.  He  had 
bought  the  notes  at  two  per  cent,  and  had  loaned  on  his 


270          THJEEE     PEE     CENT.     A     MONTH. 

own  bank  bills  at  one  and  a  half  (the  reader  will  please 
remember  that  Mr.  Gripe  charged  two  and  a  half  and  two 
and  a  quarter),  and  if  he  should  sell  the  notes  now  at  one 
per  cent,  he  would  make  something,  and  then  as  he  did  not 
wish  to  have  his  money  lie  idle,  he  could  probably  use  it 
again  at  the  same  rates. 

"  I  guess  you  may  sell  them,  Mr.  Gripe,"  he  said,  as  he 
drew  forth  his  huge  wallet,  and  extracted  from  its  manifold 
pockets  three  notes,  which  he  handed  to  the  broker.  "  Do 
you  think  you  can  get  the  money  soon  ?  because  if  you  can 
I  will  try  if  I  can  put  it  out  at  once.  You  know  I  don't 
like  to  let  it  lie  idle." 

"  Never  fear.  I  don't  want  but  half  an  hour  after  I  have 
the  notes.  But,  stop — there  are  only  four  here.  There  is 
one  more,  the  one  for  twenty-seven  hundred  dollars." 

"  Oh,  yes.  Do  you  want  that,  too  ? "  and  he  opened 
again  his  wallet,  which,  while  talking  he  had  replaced  in  the 
breast-pocket  of  his  coat.  "  There,  now,  how  long  will  you 
be  gone  ?  I  want  to  make  sure,  you  know,  Mr.  Gripe." 

"  You  shall  have  your  money  in  an  hour  from  now.  Of 
course,  you  will  bring  the  country  notes  you  hold  as  collat 
eral  ?" 

"  Of  course.  You  get  the  check  as  soon  as  you  can,  and 
I  will  be  back  here  in  an  hour  with  the  other  notes.  Of 
course,  you  are  sure  of  selling  them  ?" 

"  They  are  sold,  Mr.  Butman,"  said  Gripe  rather  nervouc- 
ly,  fearing  that  if  he  remained  too  long,  he  might  let  out 
some  of  the  secrets  connected  with  the  possession  of  these 


THE    FAST    MAN    GOING    DOWN    HILL.     277 

notes,  and  the  rates  paid  on  them  as  contrasted  with  those 
charged. 

Mr.  Gripe's  usual  luck,  however,  followed  him,  and  Mr. 
Butman  took  his  leave,  without  adverting  to  a  subject  which 
might  led  to  unpleasant  consequences. 

As  the  door  closed  upon  him,  Robert  Arnold  drew  a  long 
breath.  He  dared  not  trust  himself  to  words,  for  his  heart 
was  too  full  for  speech.  He  had  stood  upon  the  brink  of  a 
precipice,  down  which  one  more  step  would  have  plunged 
him  irrevocably,  and  he  had  been  saved  from  that  step. 
The  notes  were  rescued  from  public  scrutiny,  and  he  was 
safe. 

"  Shall  I  go  around  to  your  uncle's,  now  ?"  said  Mr. 
Gripe,  turning  to  Mr.  Arnold,  who  had  withdrawn  into  the 
farthest  and  darkest  corner  of  the  room. 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  go  right  off,"  he  replied,  nervously.  "  Go, 
bring  a  check,  and  settle  that ;"  and  without  another  word, 
Mr.  Gripe,  thrusting  the  notes  into  his  hat,  started  for  Mr. 
Arnold's  store. 

He  was  not  absent  over  fifteen  minutes,  though  it  seemed 
an  age  to  Robert,  who  remained  in  the  office,  in  a  state  of 
feverish  anxiety,  which  language  would  fail  to  depict. 

"  There  ;  that's  what  I  call  a  good  morning's  work. 
Five  per  cent,  on  ten  thousand  dollars,"  he  said  as  he 
re-entered  the  office,  bearing  triumphantly  Mr.  Arnold's 
check  for  the  notes.  See  there,  he  gave  me  a  check  for 
the  face  of  the  notes,  he  only  took  off  seven  per  cent  ;" 
and  as  he  held  the  check  up  with  an  air  of  exultation, 
Robert  groaned,  for  he  was  cut  to  the  very  heart. 


278    THREE  PEE  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

"  Of  course,  you  will  divide  that  with  me  ?" 

"  Fix  that  as  you  choose,  Mr.  Gripe,"  said  Robert,  who 
feared  to  trust  himself  to  too  many  words  ;  "  anyhow  you 
choose.  Did  my  uncle  say  anything  ?" 

"  Not  much.  He  is  a  queer  customer  that.  He  asked  if 
I  knew  of  any  more  being  out  with  his  name  on  them,  and 
I  told  him  that  I  was  sure  there  were  none  ;  that  I  was 
your  broker,  and  did  all  your  business,  and  if  there  had 
been  any,  I  was  sure  I  must  know  it.  Was  I  right  ?" 

"  Perfectly.  I  am  much  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Gripe/' 
Baid  Mr.  Arnold,  moving  towards  the  door,  "you  have 
done  me  a  great  favor." 

"  I  am  sure  I  am  glad,  Mr.  Arnold.  I  will  send  you  a 
check  around  for  the  difference  ;"  and  Robert  left  the  office, 
with  a  heart  sadly  oppressed,  but,  at  the  same  tune,  won 
derfully  lightened — opposite  feelings,  which,  with  a  knowl 
edge  of  his  present  circumstances,  the  reader  can  readily 
comprehend. 

"  What  a  fool  I  was,"  said  Mr.  Gripe  to  himself,  as  the 
door  closed  upon  Mr.  Arnold.  "  If  I  had  not  let  him  stay 
there,  I  could  have  made  that  five  per  cent,  just  as  easy. 
Ah,  well,  it's  no  matter.  I  haven't  lost  much,  and  I'll  try 
and  make  it  up  some  other  time  ;"  and,  seating  himself,  he 
made  a  calculation  of  the  amount  he  would  have  to 
pay  to  Mr.  Butman,  deducting  his  five  per  cent,  and  com 
mission.  The  half  of  this  was  a  sum  not  to  be  despised  ;  so 
drawing  a  check  for  the  amount  due  to  Mr.  Arnold,  lie 
sent  it  around  as  soon  as  his  boy  came  in,  and  proceeding 
to  the  bank,  drew  the  money  for  Mr.  Arnold's  check,  for  he 


THE    FAST    MAN    GOING    DOWN    HILL.    279 

had  no  intention  of  letting  his  principal  know  what  dis 
position  had  been  made  of  the  notes.  Mr.  Butman  return 
ing  soon  afterwards,  gave  op  the  country  notes  which  he 
held  as  collateral,  and  these  were  at  once  taken  to  Mr.  Ar 
nold's  store. 

And  Robert  Arnold  was  in  one  sense  free  ;  but  the  very 
sense  of  freedom  thus  obtained  was  galling,  and  his  con 
science  smote  him  with  a  force,  which,  if  it  did  not  render 
him  miserable,  went  far  to  prove  that  he  was  not  utterly 
lost  to  all  sense  of  honor  and  feeling.  There  was  hope  for 
him  yet. 

Robert  Arnold,  on  the  night  of  his  uncle's  visit,  had,  as 
the  reader  may  remember,  been  agonized  at  the  thought  of 
the  detection  of  his  conduct ;  but  for  a  time  when  he  had 
received  the  conviction  that  no  harm  would  come  to  him 
through  his  uncle,  evil  thoughts  had  again  prevailed,  and 
he  commenced  calculating  how  much  longer  he  could  bear 
tip  under  the  heavy  burden  which  he  was  carrying,  and 
how  long  he  could  postpone  the  crash  which  must  overtake 
him. 

When  he  had  received  from  Mr.  Gripe  the  country  notes, 
and  felt  that  all  actual  present  danger  had  passed,  his  first 
emotion  was  of  deep  thankfulness  for  his  escape.  True,  he 
had  lost  the  friendship  of  his  only  relative  on  earth,  of  one 
who  was  abundantly  able  to  have  aided  him,  and  who  had 
proved  that  his  will  was  equal  to  his  ability,  by  his  gene 
rous  assistance  when  Robert  first  made  application  to 
him. 


280     THREE  PER  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

But  still  he  was  thankful,  and  that  feeling  softened  hia 
heart,  and  led  him  to  deeper  and  truer  thoughts. 

As  the  office  door  closed  upon  Mr.  Gripe's  retreating  form, 
Robert  turned  to  the  clock.  It  was  nearly  two  o'clock  ; 
so  terribly  had  he  been  excited  by  the  occurrences  of  the 
morning,  he  had  not  noted  how  time  had  flown.  His  book- 
keeper  had  reminded  him  early  in  the  day  that  provision 
must  be  made  for  a  note  of  twenty-one  hundred  dollars  due 
that  day.  That  could  only  be  taken  up  by  application  to 
Mr.  Gripe,  and  he  must  either  attend  immediately  to  it,  or 
suffer  the  blow  to  fall  at  once. 

As  calmly  as  was  possible  he  tried  to  think.  It  waa 
utterly  out  of  the  question,  situated  as  he  was,  to  do 
more  than  postpone  the  evil  hour,  and  when  he  glanced  over 
his  private  memorandum  book,  which  showed  the  enormous 
amounts  he  had  paid  to  Mr.  Gripe  to  sustain  a  fictitious 
credit,  he  determined  upon  his  course. 

Taking  up  his  hat,  he  left  the  office,  and  as  he  passed 
through  the  store  towards  the  street,  said  calmly  to  the 
book-keeper,  that  he  would  take  care  of  that  note.  His 
mind  was  made  up.  "  Poor  Belle,"  he  said,  "  I  wonder  how 
she  will  take  it,  and  what  she  will  do  ?  Well,  she  has  had  her 
share  of  my  prosperity — we  have  been  a  pair  of  fools,  and 
if  she  won't  stand  by  me  in  adversity" —  he  did  not  finish  the 
sentence,  for  he  could  not  imagine  how  he  would  act  La  such 
a  contingency.  Robert  walked  down  Broadway  to  the  Bat 
tery,  and  remained  there  until  the  clock  had  struck 
three,  and  as  the  last  sound  of  the  chimes  struck  his  ear 


THE    FAST    MAN    GOING    DOWN    HILL.    281 

he  felt  a  sense  of  relief  to  which  he  had  long  been  a 
stranger. 

It  was  too  late  now  to  recall  his  step,  and  with  a  heart 
lighter  than  he  had  known  for  many  a  day,  he  returned  to 
his  store,  and  entering  his  office,  prepared  calmly  to  receive 
the  messenger  whom  he  knew  would  come  soon  to  demand 
payment  of  the  note  which  had  not  been  taken  up. 

"  All  right,  sir,"  he  said,  as  the  notary  entered  the  office 
about  half-past  three,  "  it  won't  be  paid  ;"  and  with  a  very 
slightly  supercilious  smile,  the  notary  took  his  leave. 

Robert  Arnold  had  chosen  the  wiser  part,  and  had  stopped 
ill  his  mad  career  of  folly  and  extravagance.  He  had  noth 
ing  further  now  to  do  in  that  store,  and  with  a  lingering  look 
at  the  place,  the  scene  of  so  many  fruitless  struggles,  he  left 
it,  and  started  homeward,  dreading  now,  more  than  aught 
else,  to  meet  his  wife  and  communicate  to  her  the  realization 
of  the  words  he  had  uttered  on  the  previous  evening. 

His  dream  of  folly  was  over,  and  as  he  slowly  walked  on, 
he  was  enabled  to  review  calmly  the  terrible  ordeal  to 
which  he  had  voluntarily  submitted  so  long  :  the  worst  had 
now  come,  and  it  was  not  half  so  hard  as  the  incessant 
struggle  and  hurry,  and  torment  of  striving  to  keep  his  head 
out  of  water,  with  a  weight  pressing  him  down,  too  great 
for  the  long  endurance  of  any  human  strength.  He  saw  iu 
its  true  light  his  folly,  his  wickedness,  and  he  now  wondered 
how  he  could  have  been  so  long  infatuated. 

At  all  events  he  was  now  once  more  free.  He  could  only 
be  stripped  of  the  gaudy  plumes  in  which  he  had  so  long 


282    THREE  PEE  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

strutted.  He  could  only  be  called  on  to  resign  luxuries 
which  had  added  nothing  to  his  pleasure,  but  much  to  his 
cares.  He  could  not  be  deprived  of  his  energy,  his  will  to 
work.  But  his  thoughts  can  be  better  imagined  than  descri 
bed 


THE    WIFE'S    DEVOTION.  283 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE     WIFE'S     DEVOTION. 

11  WELL,  Belle,"  he  said,  as  he  entered  his  house,  and 
ascended  to  her  room,  where  she  was  engaged  in  laying  out 
her  clothes  and  that  of  her  children  ready  for  packing,  "  I 
see  you  have  taken  me  at  my  word." 

"  Dear  Robert,"  she  said,  springing  up  at  his  entrance, 
and  throwing  herself  upon  his  neck  in  an  agony  of  tears, 
"  I  hope  the  worst  is  over  now." 

"  Yes,  Belle,  it  is  all  over,"  he  said,  with  a  real  smile — 
the  first  natural  one  she  had  seen  for  many  a  day. 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad — I  am  so  happy." 

"  Glad  1  happy  1  Belle,"  said  her  astonished  husband, 
holding  her  out  at  arms'  length,  and  gazing  in  her  face,  as 
if  doubting  the  veracity  of  his  ears,  "  you  are  glad  and 
happy  ?" 

"  Indeed  and  indeed,  I  am,  Robert.  I  have  had  my  day 
of  thought  and  trial,  and  thank  God,  I  have  recovered  my 
senses  once  more.  Now  sit  down,  Robert,"  and  almost 
forcing  him  into  a  chair,  she  seated  herself  on  his  knee,  with 


284:    THREE  PER  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

one  arm  around  his  neck,  while  with  the  other  hand  she 
parted  the  hair  from  his  broad  forehead  ;  "  listen  to  me  for  a 
moment,  dear." 

"  When  we  were  married  I  was  as  happy  as  the  human 
Heart  could  wish  ;  we  had  enough  for  comfort,  and  with 
health  and  my  husband's  love,  I  was  as  contented  as  earth 
could  make  me.  I  have  been  the  cause  of  leading  you  into 
your  present  troubles.  You  forgot,  dear,  that  I  was  only  a 
weak,  foolish  woman,  and  when  you  grew  prosperous,  you 
indulged  me  so  much,  it  only  served  to  increase  my  desires 
for  more.  You  spoiled  me  for  the  time,  and  now  that  I  can 
look  back  and  see  the  folly  of  my  course,  I  repent  in  bitter 
ness  of  heart,  that  I  suffered  my  vanity,  and  pride,  and  folly 
to  carry  me  so  far  away  from  the  path  of  duty. 

"  But,  Robert,  if  the  feelings  of  the  woman  carried  me 
away,  and  led  me  to  persuade  you  into  courses  which  have 
ruined  you,  my  devotion  as  a  wife,  and  my  affection  as  a 
mother,  shall  make  all  the  amends  in  my  power.  I  am  hap 
pier  now  than  I  have  been  for  years,  for  I  know  that  I  feel 
aright,  and  mean  to  act  aright.  Do  you  understand  me, 
Robert  ?" 

"  Perfectly,  Belle,  my  dear,  good  little  wife,  perfectly  ; 
and  I  shall  be  just  as  happy  as  you  are  when  I  can  lose  sight 
of  these  follies,  and  vanities,  and  fripperies  which  have  led 
us  so  far  away  from  true  peace  or  comfort.  I  feared  that 
you  would  be  most  miserable  when  the  worst  did  come." 

"  The  worst,  Robert !     It  is  the  best  that  has  reached 
•     • 
ng — we  were  a  great  deal  more  happy  before  we  moved  into 


THE     \\IFE     <S      DEVOTION.  285 

this  house  than  we  have  ever  been  since,  and  we  will  be 
happy  again.  Come,  tell  me  all  about  it.  What  have  you 
done  to-day,  and  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?" 

And  Robert  briefly  made  known  that  he  had  stopped, 
and  that  he  was  thenceforth  freed  from  the  cares  of  his 
business,  for  his  creditors  would  relieve  him  at  once  of  all 
thought  for  them.  Every  thing  he  had  must,  of  course,  be 
given  up. 

"  Of  course,"  echoed  Belle,  "  and  I  wish  some  of  them 
had  just  to  live  your  life  over  in  this  very  house  for  a  short 
tune,  and  suffer  just  as  you  have  suffered  in  trying  to  remain 
here.  I  think  they  would  be  glad  to  be  rid  of  it.  Well, 
it's  aU  for  the  best." 

"  Dear  Belle,"  said  her  husband,  imprinting  a  kiss  upon 
her  forehead,  "  how  happy  you  make  me  now  that  I  know 
how  differently  you  feel  about  it  from  what  I  had  expected. 
I  have  been  as  much  worried  to-day  about  you,  almost,  as  I 
have  about  my  business.  I  was  so  afraid  " 

"  Yes,  dear,  you  were  so  afraid  that  there  was  so  much 
of  the  mere  woman  in  me,  I  could  forget  that  I  was  the 
wife  of  an  indulgent  husband,  and  the  mother  of  affectionate 
children.  Bless  your  heart,  Robert,  I  am  glad  it  is  over. 
You  don't  know  how  often  I  have  worried  and  fretted  of 
late  because  I  was  afraid  you  was  indulging  me  beyond 
your  means,  and  yet  I  dreaded  to  speak  seriously  to  you 
a,bout  it.  How  very  much  I  have  been  to  blame,  and  how 
kind  and  indulgent  you  have  been,  to  sacrifice  even  yourself 
to  me.  Dear  Robert,  what  can  I  do  to  show  how  much  1 
appreciate  you  ?" 


286  THKEE      PER     CENT.      A      MONTH. 

"  Belle,  I  am  so  delighted  at  seeing  you  in  this  mind,  I 
must  tell  you  that  which  I  wished  to  keep  even  from  my 
wife,  for  it  must  make  her  despise  me." 

That  is  impossible,  Robert.  Say  on  ;  you  can  say 
nothing  now  to  change  my  love,  or  make  me  forget  how 
much  I  owe  to" 

"  There,  Belle,  stop.  You  little  dream  what  an  escape  I 
have  had — even  if  I  have  escaped  at  all — from  bringing 
infamy  and  public  scorn  on  myself,  and  degradation  on  you 
and  our  children." 

"  Oh  no,  Robert,  that  is  impossible.  You  could  do 
nothing  to  make  me  forget  how  very  happy  we  have  been, 
or  to  regret  that  I  became  your  wife.  I  know  you  have — 
nay,  I  mean  that  I  have,  because  it  has  been  all  my  fault, 
Robert,  been  foolish  —  vain  —  wicked — extravagant,  and 
reckless  ;  but  I  know  that  you  have  never  done  anything 
to" 

"  One  moment,  Belle,"  said  Robert,  interrupting  her,  and 
drawing  forth  his  handkerchief,  he  wiped  the  perspiration 
which  had  now  started  to  his  face  and  brow.  "You 
remember  that  when  my  uncle  was  here,  you  saw  me  greatly 
excited.  I  had  good  cause — God  knows  I  wish  it  had 
never  existed — to  feel  so.  Belle,  dear,  but  for  his  kindness 
then,  I  should  now  be  " 

"  Be  what  ?"  exclaimed  his  wife,  almost  terrified  at  his 
unusual  excitement ;  for  as  he  spoke,  his  face  flushed,  and 
his  eyes  filled  with  tears.  "  In  God's  name,  what  can  you 
mean  ?" 

''  The  inmate  of  a  prison  cell." 


THE    WIFE'S    DEVOTION.  287 

"  Robert  Arnold  1"  exclaimed  his  wife,  starting  from  his 
knee,  and  standing  upright  before  him,  while  with  one  hand 
she  pushed  away  the  hair  from  his  clammy  forehead  —  "  my 
husband,  what  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  God  forgive  me,  dear,  but  I  dare  not  conceal  it  from 
you,"  said  Robert,  seizing  her  hand,  and  pressing  it  to  his 
heart.  "In  the  vain,  foolish  hope  of  extricating  myself 
from  the  difficulties  which  surrounded  me  on  every  side, 


"  Go  on,  Robert  —  in  God's  name  go  on  !  What  have 
you  done  ?" 

"I  forged  my  uncle's  name." 

This  was  too  much  for  Belle,  and  sinking  again  upon  his 
knee,  she  threw  her  arms  about  his  neck,  and  resting  her 
face  upon  his  head,  gave  way  to  an  agony  of  tears. 

"Yes,  Belle,"  said  Robert,  amid  tears  and  sobs,  for  he 
had  scarcely  voice  left  to  speak,  "  I  forged  his  name  as 
endorser  to  some  notes,  and  he  "  - 

"Oh,  will  he  send  you  to  prison  ?  will  he  take  you  from 
us  ?"  she  exclaimed,  frantically,  clasping  his  head  with  both 
arms.  "  Will  he,  dear  husband,  will  he  send  you  to  prison  ? 
Oh  why  did  you  not  tell  me  this  last  night  ?  Why  did  you 
let  those  vain  frivolous  fools  take  up  the  time  which  I  ought 
to  have  spent  in  comforting  you  ?  And  it  was  for  me  you 
have  done  this.  But,  dear  Robert,  surely  he  won't  take  you 
from  us.  Oh,  my  God,  I  shall  go  mad  1"  and  rising,  she 
paced  the  floor,  wringing  her  hands,  and  uttering  incoherent 
exclamations  of  grief  and  despair. 


THBEE  PEE  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

"  No,  dear  Belle,"  said  Robert,  wiping  his  streaming  eyes 
and  trying  to  speak  composedly  ;  "  I  owe  to  him  more  than 
a  lifetime  of  deep  gratitude  can  ever  pay.  He  promised  not 
to  injure  me.  He  has  paid  them  all,  and  save  from  him,  I 
have  nothing  to  fear." 

"  Oh,  I  will  go  to  him — I  will  go  on  my  knees  to  him,  I 
will  crawl  in  the  very  dust  at  his  feet  ;  but  he  must  not 
take  my  husband  from  me.  Oh,  Robert,  why  do  you  not 
hate  me,  for  I  have  been  the  cause  of  this  ?  No,  you  need 
not  deny  it,"  she  said,  seeing  that  he  was  about  to  inte/rupt 
her.  "You  were  afraid  to  deny  me  ;  you  feared  I  could 
not  sacrifice  the  woman  to  the  wife.  Oh,  Robert,  how  little 
you  knew  me.  Where  does  he  live  ?  Let  me  see  him.  I 
will  tell  him  it  was  all  my  fault,  and  beg  him  to  punish  me 
instead  of  you.  Robert,  my  husband,  have  I  been  the 
cause  of  so  much  misery  ?" 

"  Hush,  Bell  I     You  must  not  talk  so  ;  you  " 

"  Not  talk  so  !  How  else  can  I  talk,  when  my  heart  tells 
me  how  wicked  I  have  been  ;  and  to  think  that  I  went  to 
Susan  Scott  this  morning  to  ask  her  to  intercede  for  you. 
Oh,  why  did  you  not  tell  me  this  last  night  ?" 

"  Susan  I    What,  Belle,  your  sister  ?" 

"  Yes,  Robert ;  Heaven  bless  her.  She  has  a  heart  to 
feel,  though  I  forgot  that  I  had  one.  She  has  been  to  see 
him  at  my  request,  and  was  here  this  morning,  and  told  me 
your  uncle  said  he  had  no  intention  of  harming  you.  But 
oh,  if  I  had  known — if  I  had  only  known — I  must  see  him  ; 
I  will  see  him,"  she  said,  wiping  her  eyes.  "  I  won't  lay  my 


THE    WIFE'S    DEVOTION.  289 

head  at  rest  to-night  until  I  have  seen  him,  and  told  him 
how  wicked  I  have  been." 

"Belle,  you  must  not.     It  is  useless." 

"  I  will,  Robert,  if  I  die  at  his  feet,"  she  said,  firmly, 
"  and  I  do  not  believe  it  will  be  useless.  I  do  not  believe 
that  when  I  tell  him  how  you  have  been  led  away  by  your 
love  for  a  vain,  foolish,  frivolous  woman,  that  he  can  con 
demn  you.  I  will  beg  him,  for  my  children's  sake,  to  be 

merciful,  and  I  know  he  will  be.     Don't  try  to  dissuade  me, 

i 

Robert,  I  tell  you  I  will  see  him,  if  I  spend  my  last  breath 

in  confessing  my  faults,  and  beseeching  him  to  pardon 
you." 

"  My  noble — devoted — faithful  wife  ;  oh  why  did  I  not 
know  you  before  ?  Dear — dear  Belle,  do  not  go,  I  ask — I 
entreat  you." 

"  Robert,  my  husband,  it  is  my  duty,  and  I  cannot  now 
be  swerved  from  it.  You  married  me  a  weak-minded,  fool 
ish,  giddy  girl.  You  have  been  the  best,  and  kindest,  and 
most  indulgent  of  husbands,  and  if  through  me  you  have 
been  driven  to  this  dreadful  pass,  I  will  make  every  repara 
tion  in  my  power.  I  must  see  Mr.  Arnold  this  very 
night." 

But  a  veil  must  be  drawn   iver  the  sanctity  of  this 

scene. 

19 


290     THREE  PEE  CENT.   A  MONTH, 


CHAPTEE    XXVIII. 

THE  FORGER'S  WIFE. 

"  A  LADY  to  see  me  !  Why  it  is  after  eight  o'clock,"  said 
Mr.  Arnold,  rising  from  his  easy-chair,  and  laying  down  the 
book  he  had  been  perusing.  "  What  on  earth  can  any  one 
want  with  me  at  this  tune  of  night  ?  A  lady,  did  you  say, 
Jane  ?"  he  queried  of  the  servant  who  had  made  the 
announcement,  and  who  stood  now  with  the  door  ajar. 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  and  she  asked  me  to  say  she  wanted  to  see 
you  very  particularly." 

"  Oh,  show  her  up.  There,  place  a  chair  by  the  fire. 
Show  her  up,  Jane.  A  lady  to  see  me  I"  and  Mr.  Arnold 
seemed  really  confused  at  such  an  unusual  occurrence. 
"  Who  on  earth  can  she  be,  and  what  can  she  want  ?  Surely, 

Susan  would  not  come  here  at  this  tune  of Oh  1  walk 

in,  madam.  Did  you  wish  to  see  me  ?"  he  said  bowing,  as 
the  servant  ushered  in  a  lady  closely  veiled,  and  bearing  in 
her  hand  a  small  parcel  neatly  done  up. 

"  Be  seated,"  he  said,  seeing  that  she  hesitated.  "  I  am 
Mr.  Arnold.  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?  Shut  that  door, 


THE    FORGER'S    WIPE.  29 j 

Jane.  When  I  want  you  I  will  ring,"  he  said,  turning  to 
tne  servant,  who  lingered  with  the  door  half  open. 

"  Mr.  Arnold,"  said  the  visitor  in  an  agitated  voice  ;  but 
she  could  say  no  more — springing  forward,  she  threw  up  her 
veil  with  one  hand,  and  falling  at  his  knees,  clasped  them 
with  all  her  strength,  fairly  burying  her  face,  now  streaming 
with  tears,  against  his  person. 

"  For  God's  sake,  Madame,  arise.  Never  kneel  to  me. 
Who  are  you  ?  What  do  you  want  ?* 

"  I  am  the  most  unhappy  wife  of  a  miserable  man,  and  I 
come  to  ask  for  mercy  ;"  and  as  she  spoke,  she  raised  her 
swollen  facB  to  his,  and  he  recognized  the  wife  of  Robert 
Arnold. 

For  an  instant  an  expression  of  sternness  crossed  his 
features,  but  as  he  looked  at  the  kneeling  supplicant  before 
him,  he  raised  her  gently  from  her  kneeling  posture,  and 
seating  her  in  his  own  chair,  stood  before  her  lost  in  wonder 
and  amazement. 

"  Oh  !  Mr.  Arnold.  Dear  Mr.  Arnold.  For  the  love  of 
God — for  the  sake  of  my  poor,  unoffending  children — do  not 
punish  my  unhappy  husband.  Indeed,  sir,  it  was  all  my 
fault.  He  loved  me  so  well,  he  could  not  bear  to  deny  me 
anything.  And  I  was  wild — crazy.  I  was  not  myself,  I  do 
assure  you,  or  I  never  would  have  suffered  him  to  go  thus 
far.  Oh  !  sir,  do  believe  me,  it  was  only  his  love  for  me, 
and  oh,  how  I  hate  myself  for  it  !" 

'  My  dear  young  woman,"  said  Mr.  Arnold,  kindly,  for  he 
rould  not  fail  to  be  touched  at  her  evident  distress,  "  there 


292    THREE  PEE  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

is  no  occasion  for  you  to  feel  so  unhappy.  I  had  no  inten 
tion  of  harming  your  husband." 

"  Oh,  I  know  you  said  so  this  morning  to  Susan  ;  but 
when  I  asked  her  to  see  you,  I  did  not  know  the  extent  of 
my  husband's  wrongs  to  you.  Believe  me,  sir,  I  did  not. 
Oh,  sir,  you  will  not  take  him  from  us  ?  You  will  not  send 
him  to  prison  ?  You  will  not  break  our  hearts,  will  you  ? 
I  will  work  for  you.  I  will  be  anything — do  anything  you 
wish— but  oh,  do  not  take  my  husband,  the  father  of  my 
children,  from  us.  He  loves  us  very  dearly,  and  that  very 
love  has  ruined  him.  Oh,  you  will  not,  will  you,  dear  Mr. 
Arnold  V 

"  My  dear  girl,"  said  Mr.  Arnold,  his  eyes  involuntarily 
moistening  as  she  poured  out  her  earnest  appeal  in  behalf 
of  one  whom  he  had  loved  so  well,  "  have  I  not  told  you 
that  I r 

"  See — see  here,  Mr.  Arnold,"  she  said  eagerly,  interrupt 
ing  him,  and  nervously  undoing  the  parcel  she  had  brought 
with  her.  "  See,  here  is  everything  he  ever  gave  me — every 
thing  I  own  in  the  world ;"  and  as  she  spoke,  she  poured 
out  upon  the  table  ner  watch,  her  rings,  and  bracelets,  and 
earrings,  and  all  the  costly  jewelry  which  she  had  collected 
since  their  marriage  day.  "  I  haven't  kept  a  single  one  but 
my  wedding  ring.  Take  them — take  everything — but  oh, 
leave  my  husband  to  me." 

This  was  quite  too  much  for  Mr.  Arnold — the  cold- 
hearted,  selfish,  unfeeling  Mr.  Arnold.  There  was  a  pathos, 
an  earnestness,  an  anguish  in  her  appeal,  and  a  sincerity  in 


THE    FOK  GEE'S    WIFE.  293 

her  actions,  which  went  straight  to  his  heart,  and  for  his 
life  he  could  not  have  kept  back  the  tears  which  found  their 
way  down  his  furrowed  cheeks. 

"  Oh  !  you  will  not — I  know  you  will  not — thank  God  ! 
thank  God  1"  and  burying  her  face  in  her  hands,  she  gave  way 
to  tears  and  emotions  which  nature  could  no  longer  restrain. 

"  No,  I  will  not,  I  never  meant  to,  and  now  I  could  not. 
Look  here,  my  dear  girl,  you  have  done  very  wrong  in 
coming  here  to-night.  You  had  no  right  to  come  to  me  as 
you  have  on  behalf  of  one  who  has " 

"  Oh  !  sir,  he  is  my  husband — the  father  of  my  children. 
I  love  him.  better  than  my  life  ;  do  anything  with  me  you 
choose — condemn  me,  for  I  deserve  it  all — punish  me,  for  I 
alone  was  to  blame.  Do  anything,  but  do  not  take  my 
husband  from  me.  Oh  1  we  have  been  so  happy,  and  he 
loves  us  so  much." 

"  Mrs.  Arnold,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  striving  to  put  on 
an  air  of  sternness,  "did  your  husband  ask  you  to  come 

here  ?" 

"  No,  no,  sir.  He  forbade  it — he  did  not  wish  me  to 
come,  though  I  told  him  that  I  would.  Shall  I  send  him  to 
you?"  she  said,  her  countenance  lighting  up  with  an 
expression  of  happiness.  "  May  he  come  ?  Oh  !  if  you 
knew  how  bitterly  he  repents — how  he  is  stung  by  remorse  ! 
We  don't  care  for  our  house — we  don't  care  for  comforts — 
we  don't  look  for  luxuries — we  have  purchased  them  too 
dearly.  But  oh,  do  not  deprive  him  of  the  power  to  work 
for  those  he  loves — for  those  who  love  and  look  to  him 


294:    THEEE  PER  CENT.  A  MONTH 

Take  them,  sir  ;"  and  she  pushed  the  jewels  towards  him. 
"  I  have  nothing  more  on  earth  to  give.  It  will  be  some 
thing  towards  repairing  the  wrongs  he  has  done  you,  but 
oh,  do  not  take  him  from  us " 

"  I  tell  you  again,  I  will  not,"  said  Mr.  Arnold,  blowing 
his  nose  with  tremendous  violence  ;  "  I  tell  you  I  will  not. 
Now  go  home,  and  make  your  heart  easy.  I  won't  harm 
him,  and  I  would  not  add  to  your  unhappiness " 

"Oh!  sir,"  she  interrupted,  "it  has  been  all  my  own 
fault.  He  was  not  to  blame  at  all.  I  deserve  all  I  feel,  but 
poor  Robert,"  and  again  burying  her  face  in  her  hands,  she 
gave  way  to  her  tears. 

"  Poor  Robert !"  Those  words  struck  a  chord  hi  Mr. 
Arnold's  heart,  and  it  vibrated,  to  the  touch.  It  was  his 
brother's  name,  his  only  brother,  and  Robert  was  his  only 
child.  He  must  have  been  driven  to  sad  extremities.  '  He 
must  have  been  sorely  tempted  ;  and,  no  doubt,  he  must 
suffer  terribly.  Tears  came  to  the  old  man's  eyes,  as  he 
thought  of  "  poor  Robert."  He  was  his  younger  brother  ; 
a  wild,  dashing,  reckless,  gallant  fellow,  who  had  leaned 
upon  him,  and  loved  him  with  all  the  strength  of  his  ar 
dent,  impulsive  nature.  How  often  he  had  saved  him  from 
the  consequences  of  his  mad  freaks  ;  how  many  battles  he 
had  fought  for  him,  when  he  was  too  small  to  fight  them 
for  himself,  and  then  their  mother  I  on  her  death-bed  she 
had  implored  him  to  be  a  friend  and  brother  to  Robert, 
and  he  had  promised  that  he  would. 

"Poor  Robert."    He  was  dead.    He  had  left  only  the 


THE    FOEGEK'S    WIFE.  295 

memory  of  Ms  love  and  his  virtues,  and  his  son's  wife  was 
before  him,  pleading  for  her  husband. 

"  I  don't  want  your  jewels,  Mrs.  Arnold.  I  won't  take 
them.  I " 

"  Oh,  do,  sir.     You  will  make  me  very  happy." 

"  I  will  make  you  happy  without  that,  for  I  believe  you 
deserve  to  be  so,"  and  wiping  his  eyes  he  went  to  his  secre 
tary  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  room,  and  there  he  remained 
a  few  moments  looking  over  some  papers. 

"  There,  take  them,  and  I  hope  they  will  make  you  as 
happy  as  I  am  in  tendering  them  to  you  ;"  and  he  held  out 
to  her  some  papers,  which  her  tears  would  not  allow  her  to 
examine,  but  which  she  took  with  trembling  hands,  and  a 
grateful  heart. 

"  Those  are  the  notes  ;  give  them  to  your  husband,  and 
say  to  him,  that  for  your  sake  I  forgive  him  ;  for  the  hus 
band  of  such  a  wife  cannot  be  a  bad  man.  There,  take 
your  jewels,  you  will  want  them  yet.  No,  I  tell  you,  I  will 
not  take  them,"  he  added,  seeing  she  was  about  to  interrupt 
him,  and  gathering  them  hastily,  he  replaced  them  in  the 
handkerchief  in  which  she  had  brought  them,  and  placed 
them  in  her  hand. 

"  There,  now,  go  home  ;  give  those  to  Kobert — to  your 
husband,  I  mean — and  tell  him  I  wish  him  well." 

Belle  stood  for  one  moment,  as  if  transfixed  ;  in  one  hand 
she  held  the  package  of  jewels,  in  the  other  the  notes  which 
Mr.  Arnold  had  given  to  her  ;  then  falling  upon  her  knees, 
with  clasped  hands  and  upraised  face,  she  poured  out  the 


296          THKEE     PER     CENT.     A     MONTH. 

earnest  thanksgiving  of  her  heart  for  his  boundless  kindness, 
and  invoked  the  choicest  blessings  of  Heaven  upon  his 
head. 

Gently  raising  her,  Mr.  Arnold  imprinted  a  kiss  upon  her 
forehead  ;  and  leading  her  to  the  door,  bade  her  go  home, 
and  make  her  husband  happy. 

Belle  flew  on  the  wings  of  love  to  her  home.  In  one  hand 
she  still  held  the  jewels,  in  the  other  the  notes,  and  im 
patiently  ringing  the  bell,  she  rushed  past  the  astonished 
servant  as  the  door  was  opened,  and  ascending  as  rapidly 
as  her  feet  could  carry  her  to  her  own  room,  found  her  hus 
band  seated  there,  his  face  buried  hi  his  hands,  and  evi 
dently  lost  in  deep  thought. 

"  There,  there,  Robert — husband — there  they  are  ;"  and 
as  he  arose  to  greet  her,  she  stretched  forth  the  hand  in 
which  the  notes  were  tightly  clasped,  and  exclaiming,  "  I've 
got  them — there  they  are,"  fell  senseless  to  the  floor. 

The  terrible  excitement  of  the  past  hour  had  been  too 
much  for  her.  Joy  overpowered  her — -joy,  that  she  had 
saved  him  whom  she  loved  better  than  life  ;  joy,  that  she 
saved  him  to  her  children  ;  joy,  that  she  had  rescued  her 
husband  from  the  infamy  and  disgrace  which  she  felt  that 
his  love  for  her  had  brought  upon  him. 

The  reader  would  scarcely  wish  to  intrude  upon  them  in 
in  this  hour,  and  we  leave  them  to  their  own  thoughts. 


THE    BOTTOM    OF    1  HE    HILL.  29T 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE    BOTTOM    OF   THE    HILL. 

ON  the  following  morning  at  the  breakfast  table,  Mrs. 
Arnold  remarked  to  her  husband,  "  I  suppose  you  must  go 
down  town  to  arrange  your  matters  there,"  and  there  was 
an  expression  on  her  countenance  as  she  spoke,  which  seemed 
to  say,  "  I  hope  you  will." 

"  Yes.  It  will  take  me  two  weeks  or  more  perhaps  to  put 
things  in  order  so  that  my  creditors  may  understand  pre 
cisely  how  I  stand,  but  I  can  face  them  now  with  a  lighter 
heart ;"  and  he  looked  affectionately  at  his  wife,  thanking  her 
for  her  agency  in  his  present  state  of  contentedness  and 
comparative  peace. 

"  So  much  the  better.  I  can  have  my  own  way  then  up 
town.  By  the  way,  dear,  I  suppose  you  give  up  every 
thing." 

"  Every  dollar's  worth.  It  will  be  bad  enough  as  it  is 
but  they  shall  not  say  I  made  any  money  by  failing  as  many 
have  done.  That  will  leave  my  character  clear  at  least,"  and 
he  blushed  as  he  spoke,  for  he  remembered  how  he  had 


29S    THBEE  PER  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

hazarded  that  character,  and  what  a  narrow  escape  he 
had. 

"  There,  never  mind  anything  of  the  past.  That  has 
been  bad  enough,  and  we  cannot  help  what  is  done.  But  we 
can  control  the  future,  and  I  mean  to  show  you  what  a  wife 
you  have  got.  Oh  !  you  don't  know  what  a  treasure  you 
have  in  me,  Robert,"  and  she  smiled  archly. 

"  If  I  don't  know  now,  I  never  can,  Belle,"  he  said 
warmly. 

"  Hush  !  there  you  go  again.  I  can  see  by  your  face  what 
you  are  thinking  of ;  put  on  your  hat,  and  go  about  your 
business.  I  have  a  great  deal  to  do  to-day,  and  don't  want 
you  about  the  house.  There  go  along,"  and  rising  she  play 
fully  handed  him  his  hat. 

He  took  it,  and  kissing  her  affectionately  as  tears  rose  to 
Ms  eyes,  he  took  his  leave  for  the  day. 

"  Now  children,"  she  said  to  Ida  and  Robert,  who  were 
Btowing  away  their  meal  in  glorious  style,  "  you  must  be 
good  with  Martha  to-day,  I  am  going  out,  and  shall  be  gone 
a  long  time." 

"  Ain't  we  going  to  school  ?"  chorused  both  voices. 

<{>Not  to  that  school  any  more — never  mind  asking  any 
questions — I  will  tell  you  all  about  it  in  good  season,"  but 
they  did  not  care  to  ask  questions  or  hear  reasons.  It  was 
enough  for  them  to  know  that  they  were  not  going  to 
school,  and  they  could  scarcely  restrain  themselves  long 
enough  to  finish  their  meal,  so  anxious  were  they  to  get  to 
play. 


THE    BOTTOM     OF    THE    HILL.  299 

"Martha,"  she  said  to  the  servant  in  waiting  on  the 
table,  "  send  all  the  servants  to  me  in  the  parlor,"  and  she 
left  the  room 

In  a  few  minutes  the  cook,  seamstress,  and  the  two  cham 
bermaids,  with  the  groom  and  coachman  (Mr.  Arnold  kept 
a  first  class  establishment),  were  before  her,  wondering  what 
this  sudden  summons  could  mean. 

"  My  husband  has  determined  to  give  up  this  house  at 
once,  and  I  want  to  pay  you  all  now.  I  shall  pay  each  of 
you  up  to  the  end  of  the  month,  which  will  make  up  for  this 
short  notice." 

Of  course  each  one  made  protestations  of  regret  at  leav 
ing  so  good  a  mistress,  and  such  a  pleasant  house,  but  from 
the  sly  looks  interchanged,  it  was  evident  that  they  surmised 
the  cause  of  this  sudden  determination. 

Their  wages  were  paid,  and  they  were  desired  to  find 
places  elsewhere  immediately. 

On  reassembling  in  the  kitchen,  their  tongues  found  free 
play,  and  while  it  would  have  mortified,  it  certainly  would 
have  pained,  Mrs.  Arnold  could  she  have  heard  the  remarks 
from  the  lips  of  those  who  had  so  long  lived  upon  her  bounty. 
She  did  not,  however,  "hear  them,  and  was  spared  that  pang. 

"  Now  Martha,"  she  said,  descending  to  the  breakfast 
room,  "  I  have  discharged  all  the  servants  but  yourself, 
we  are  going  to  break  up  housekeeping,  and  I  don't  need 
them  ;  I  shall  want  you  to  stay  with  me  till  the  first  of  the 
month," 

Martha's   eyes   opened  wide  at  this  announcement,    and 


300    THREE  PEE  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

she  was  really  grieved,  for  she  had  lived  so  long  with  her 
mistress  as  to  know  and  appreciate  her  really  good  traits,  and 
while  she  was  as  honest  and  faithful  as  human  nature  would 
allow,  she  had  grown  strongly  attached  to  the  family. 

"  And  can't  I  go  with  you,  Mrs.  Arnold  ?"  she  said,  wiping 
her  eyes  with  the  corner  of  her  apron. 

"  No,  Martha,  we  can't  afford  to  keep  any  servants  now, 
my  husband  has  met  with  great  misfortunes,  and  we  will 
have  to  do  the  best  we  can.  I  can  get  along  without  any 
help  for  the  present." 

Mr«  Arnold  had  passed  the  Rubicon  ;  she  had  spoken 
boldly  of  her  misfortunes,  and  was  well  aware  that  once 
known  to  the  servants,  their  friends  and  neighbors  would 
not  be  kept  long  from  the  information.  Nor  was  she  disap 
pointed  in  this.  Before  the  morning  was  half  advanced,  it 
had  flown  through  every  house  in  the  street,  that  Mr. 
Arnold  had  "  busted"  (that  was  the  servant's  phrase)  and 
was  turned  out  of  his  house. 

The  sudden  discharge  of  all  the  servants  abundantly  con 
firmed  their  story,  and  Mrs.  Arnold  had  no  neighborly  calls 
that  morning. 

About  ten  o'clock  she  put  on  her  hat  and  shawl,  and  giving 
directions  to  Martha  to  take  care  of  the  children,  and  to  get 
something  up  for  dinner,  she  left  the  house. 

While  she  has  gone,  let  us  follow  her  husband.  He 
walked  briskly  down  to  his  place  of  business,  and  was  some 
what  surprised  to  find  Mr.  Gripe  seated  in  thfeprivate  office, 
perusing  the  morning  papers. 


THE    BOTTOM    OF    THE     HILL.  301 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Arnold,"  said  the  smiling  broker,  rising,  "  I  am 
glad  to  see  you  looking  so  bright  this  morning  ;  it  is  a  sign 
the  money  market  is  easy  with  you." 

"  Oh,  Gripe,"  said  Mr.  Arnold  with  a  good-natured  smile, 
"  the  money  market  won't  disturb  me  for  some  time  again." 

"  That's  good — I'm  glad  of  it."  (He  did  not  mean  that, 
reader,  for  such  customers  as  Robert  Arnold  were  not  to 
be  found  on  every  bush.)  -"  That  was  a  grand  lift  you 
made  yesterday  in  getting  those  notes  off  your  hands." 

Mr.  Arnold  turned  pale,  and  compressed  his  lips  slightly, 
but  made  no  direct  reply.  "  I  suppose  you  know  I  went  to 
protest  yesterday." 

"  Good  gracious,  no  !  you  don't  say  ?"  exclaimed  Mr. 
Gripe,  with  an  air  of  intense  astonishment,  though  he  was 
perfectly  aware  of  the  fact,  as  he  had  sold  the  very  note 
which  had  been  protested,  and  the  purchaser  had  called  on 
him  in  the  afternoon  with  reference  to  it.  "  What  do  you 
propose  to  do  ?" 

"  Give  up  everything,  and  find  a  situation  somewhere  as 
salesman." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Arnold,"  said  his  sympathizing  friend,  "  I  am 
very  sorry." 

"  You  need  not  be,  for  I  have  not  been  so  happy  in  one 
twelvemonth.  No,  sir,  I  have  no  care  now — no  running 
and  kiting,  and  shinning — that's  all  over,  and  I  want  to  tell 
you,  Gripe,  of  a  resolution  I  have  formed." 

"  Indeed  I| 

"Yes.     I  promised  myself  that  if  ever  I  succeeded  in 


302          THREE      PEE     CENT.      A      MONTH. 

getting  my  head  above  water  again,  I  would  avoid  Wall 
street  and  high  shaves." 

"  Oh,  you  must  not  talk  so,  Mr.  Arnold.  You  really 
speak  as  if  you  meant  to  condemn  me,  when  you  know  I 
never  had  anything  but  my  commission,"  and  Mr.  Gripe 
spoke  without  the  least  hesitation,  and  without  a  symptom 
of  a  blush,  looking  his  victim  blandly  in  the  face. 

"  Well,  no  matter  for  that ;  I  don't  care  now  whether 
you  did  or  not.  I  only  know  this,  that  I  wish  you  much  joy 
of  all  you  have  made  out  of  me,  for  it  is  the  last  you  will 
ever  make." 

"  Oh,  you  will  change  your  mind  one  of  these  days. 
But  about  the  Insurance  stock  ;  I  am  afraid  there  may  be 
trouble  there." 

"  As  how  ?" 

"  Why,  I  learn  that  an  examination  is  going  on  into  their 
affairs,  and  they  will  be  shut  up  in  a  day  or  two." 

"  I  can  only  say  I  am  sorry  for  the  parties  who  hold  the 
stock." 

"  Yes,  but  you  gave  your  notes  for  the  stock." 

"  And  I  can't  pay  them.     What  then  ?" 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Gripe,  rather  non-plussed,  "  I  don't  see 
as  anything  can  be  done." 

"  Nor  I,"  replied  Robert,  quite  composedly.  "  When 
the  loans  are  due  the  stock  must  be  sold  off.  If  it  brings 
enough  to  pay  the  amount  due,  well  and  good  ;  if  not,  I 
cannot  pay  it." 

"  Yes  1"  said  the  broker,  his  countenance  undergoing  very 


THE    BOTTOM     OF    THE    HILL.  303 

perceptible  changes,  for  visions  of  a  lawsuit  crossed  his 
mind,  and  he  saw  himself  in  the  witness-box,  where  it  must 
come  out  that  he  had  charged  considerably  more  than  his 
brokerage.  But  that  was  one  of  the  risks  he  ran  ;  and 
hastily  driving  away  the  thoughts  of  such  an  unpleasant 
predicament,  he  renewed  his  expressions  of  regret  for  the  mis 
fortune  which  had  overtaken  his  friend,  and  took  his  leave. 

Eobert's  first  care  after  parting  with  Mr.  Gripe,  was  to 
look  over  his  books  in  i  company  with  his  bookkeeper,  and 
having  ascertained  who  was  his  principal  creditor,  he  pro 
ceeded  directly  to  his  store,  and  sought  a  private  interview. 

Briefly  but  with  perfect  frankness,  he  detailed  his  career 
for  the  past  three  years.  He  admitted  his  recklessness — his 
folly — his  rashness.  Sought  not  to  extenuate,  but  threw 
himself  entirely  upon  the  good  feeling  of  those  whom  he  had 
so  terribly  deceived,  and  who  to  say  the  truth,  were  not  a 
little  to  blame  themselves;  for  the  readiness  with  which  they 
had  given  him  credit,  assuming  that  he  was  perfectly  respon 
sible. 

There  was  nothing  left  for  them,  however,  but  to  make  the 
best  of  it,  and  when  satisfied  that  he  had  not  concealed  any 
property,  or  made  any  fraudulent  disposition  of  his  assets, 
they  would,  he  hoped,  be  less  inclined  to  feel  harshly,  or  deal 
harshly  towards  him. 

He  placed  his  store  and  its  contents,  together  with  all  of 
his  bills  receivable  in  the  hands  of  this  gentleman  as 
assignee.  He  had  no  confidential  debts,  and  no  preferences 
to  make,  and  in  giving  up  his  house  and  furniture,  he  only 


304:    THREE  PEK  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

asked  as  a  great  favor,  that  he  might  be  allowed  to  retain 
sufficient  of  the  common  furniture  for  his  own  use. 

Of  course  the  gentleman  could  give  no  answer  until  the 
creditors  had  been  consulted,  and  he  promised  to  call  a 
meeting  of  them  as  soon  as  possible. 

It  will  not  interfere  with  the  proper  course  of  this  tale,  to 
anticipate  the  action  of  the  creditors.  Some  were  terribly 
incensed,  and  threatened  prosecutions  for  fraud  and  false  pre 
tences — others  denounced  him  publicly  and  to  his  face  as  a 
swindler  and  a  scoundrel,  and  he  dared  not  deny  it.  Finally, 
however,  after  many  meetings,  they  consented  that  the  party 
first  selected  by  Mr.  Arnold,  should  act  for  them  all,  but  the 
voice  was  nearly  unanimous  against  allowing  him  a  single 
favor  of  the  most  trivial  kind,  but  releasing  him  from  all  future 
liabilities,  on  ascertaining  that  they  would  receive  about  fifty 
cents  on  the  dollar,  without  the  most  remote  prospect  of 
ever  realizing  any  more. 

Robert  sighed,  but  he  hod  no  right  to.  complain,  and  when 
the  final  transfer  was  made,1  and  he  left  the  store  never  again 
to  return  to  it,  but  released  from  his  .burden  of  debts,  his 
heart  was  lightened  of  a  weight  which  had  long  oppressed 
him,  and  he  felt  once  more  at  liberty  to  apply  his  energies  to 
some  other  occupation,  which  he  determined  to  seek  at 
once. 

He  was  yet  young — was  blessed  with  health — had  good 
business  tact  and  talent,  and  was  not  at  all  inclined  to  despair. 
Of  course  the  change  was  a  great  one,  but  he  could  bear  up 
under  it,  and  was  determined  no  matter  what  might  be  hi" 


THE    BOTTOM    OF    THE    HILL  305 

future  lot,  he  would  endeavor  to  profit  by  the  experience  he 
had  purchased  at  so  great  a  price,  the  sacrifice  of  his  peace, 
comfort,  and  happiness,  and  almost  of  that  without  which 
neither  peace,  comfort,  nor  happiness,  could  have  been  pre 
served — his  character. 
20 


306    THREE  PEE  CENT.   A  MONTH. 


CHAPTER 

PLANNING  FOR  THE  FUTURE. 

WE  parted  from  Belle  Arnold  hatted  and  shawled  ready 
for  a  day's  work,  as  she  termed  it. 

She  bent  her  steps  directly  to  Susan  Scott's  modest  little 
cottage,  and  with  her  present  feelings,  and  with  the  remem 
brance  of  her  present  circumstances,  she  envied  her  its  pos 
session,  and  even  was  she  the  owner  of  her  "  first-class  house, 
in  a  first-class  neighborhood,"  as  now  she  was  not,  she  felt  that 
there  was  more  happiness  in  that  cottage  than  she  had 
enjoyed  in  her  three  years  of  fashionable  folly  and  extrava 
gance.  There  was  an  air  of  neatness,  of  comfort,  of  home- 
ness — if  the  word  may  be  coined  for  the  occasion — which 
sent  a  thrill  of  pleasure  to  her  heart,  and  she  longed  to  be 
the  occupant  of  just  such  a  house. 

For  an  instant  she  lingered  looking  at  it,  and  was  ascend 
ing  the  stoop  to  knock  at  the  door  (for  the  house  had  no 
bell  then),  when  it  was  opened  by  Susan,  who  had  per 
ceived  her  as  she  sat  sewing  in  her  little  parlor,  and 
hastened  to  greet  her. 


PLANNING  FOK  THE  FUTURE.    307 

"  Come  in,  Belle — come  in,"  said  Susan,  seizing  her  hand, 
and  greeting  her  with  a  bright,  joyous  smile,  which  went 
directly  to  the  heart.  "  There,  sit  down  ;  take  off  your  hat 
and  shawl,  and  tell  me  how  do  you  get  on  ;"  and  she  spoke 
with  an  earnest,  affectionate  tone  which  drew  tears  to  the 
eyes  of  her  sister. 

"Why,  Belle,"  said  Susan,  soothingly,  "I  hope  th£re  is 
no  new  trouble  ?" 

"  Oh  don't  —  don't  —  please  don't,  Susan,"  said  Mrs. 
Arnold,  now  sobbing  outright. 

"  Why,  Belle,  what  do  you  mean  ?    Don't  what  ?" 

"  Don't  speak  so  kindly  to  me.  Don't  treat  me  so  ;  I 
don't  deserve  it." 

"  Oh  that's  it,  is  it  ?"  said  Susan,  smiling,  and  putting  her 
arms  around  her  sister's  neck  affectionately.  "Don't  you 
want  me  to  lore  you,  and  won't  you  love  me  ?  We  have 
some  claim  upon  each  other." 

"  Love  you,  Susan  !  Oh  !  I  wish  you  knew  how  my  heart 
throbs  with  gratitude  to  you.  If  you  could  only  feel  how 
much  I  want  you  to  love  me." 

"  Belle,  dear,"  said  Susan,  taking  both  of  her  hands  in 
her  own,  "the  law  once  made  us  half  sisters — let  love  make 
us  wholly  go.  I  want  to  love  you,  and  won't  you  let  me  ?" 

"  Dear  —  dear  Susan  !"  exclaimed  the  happy,  excited 
Belle,  rising,  and  throwing  herself  on  her  friend's  neck, 
''how  little  I  deserve  such  treatment  at  your  hand?, 
and" 

"  H — sh — there,  that  will  do,  let  bygones  be  bygones.     I 


308    THREE  PEE  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

have  been  very  unhappy — miserably — wretchedly  so.  You 
are  unhappy  now,  and  I  should  be  wanting  in  gratitude  to 
my  kind  Heavenly  Father  who  raised  up  friends  for  me  in 
my  hour  of  trouble,  if  I  did  not  feel  now  for  you.  Don't 
talk  of  the  past.  Let  us  see  what  can  be  done  to  make  the 
future  bright.  Love  me,  and  let  me  love  you,  and  if  the 
past  does  ever  recur  to  either  of  us,  let  it  only  serve  to  draw 
us  together  the  closer.  Come,  now,  wipe  your  eyes.  Sit 
down,  like  a  good  little  woman,  and  tell  me  all  about  your 
troubles." 

"  How  happy  you  must  be  here,"  said  Belle,  when  she 
hud  recovered  her  composure,  looking  around  the  neat  little 
parlor,  and  with  the  faintest  kind  of  a  sigh. 

"  Happy  1  as  happy  as  the  day  is  long.  My  husband  is 
the  kindest  and  best  of  men,  and  I  have  two  of  the  dar- 
lingest  children  that  ever  breathed,"  and  her  countenance 
actually  beamed  with  the  happiness  she  strove  to  ex 
press. 

"  How  happy  I  would  be  if  I  had  such  a  home  as  this," 
said  Belle,  half  mournfully. 

"  What  I  a  house  like  this,  after  your  palace  in  Twenty- 
second  street  ?  Belle,  you  are  wild." 

"  I  am  very  earnest,  Susan.  As  I  came  along,  I  paused 
to  look  at  your  dear  little  cottage,  and  I  thought  to  myself 
how  gladly  I  would  give  up  my  palace  if  I  had  it,  to  be  the  mis 
tress  of  such  a  place  as  this.  But  it  won't  do  to  sigh  about 
it  now.  Can  you  spare  an  hour  or  two  to  me  this  morn 
ing?" 


PLANNING     FOR     THE     FUTURE.  309 

"  Certainly,  if  I  can  do  any  good." 

"  Then  put  on  your  hat  and  shawl,  and  I  will  tell  you  as 
we  walk  what  I  want  of  you — Susan,"  said  Belle,  suddenly 
changing  her  tone,  "  I  saw  Robert's  uncle  last  night." 

"  You  saw  him — did  he  come  to  see  you  ?" 

"  No — Robert  told  me  something  in  the  afternoon,  which, 
if  I  had  known  before,  might  have  deprived  me  of  this  pre 
sent  pleasure,  for  if  I  had  known  as  much  before  I  saw  you, 
as  I  did  afterwards,  I  would  never  have  troubled  you — I  beg 
pardon,  Susan,  I  did  not  mean  to  use  that  word,"  she  hastily 
interrupted,  seeing  a  slight  shade  pass  across  Susan's  face, 
at  the  word  "  troubled."  "  I  know  it  is  a  pleasure  to  you 
to  do  anything  for  the  unhappy,  and  God  knows  I  was  un 
happy  enough  when  I  saw  you.  But — I  must  not  tell  even 
you  the  true  cause  of  my  misery.  Thank  God,  and  your 
dear  good  kind  friend,  Mr.  Arnold,  that  has  vanished." 

"  Dear,  and  kind,  and  good,  indeed  he  is,"  said  Susan,  who 
was  donning  her  hat  and  shawl  as  she  was  speaking  :  "  If 
ever  woman  or  man  had  a  true  and  noble  friend,  we  have 
one  in  him.  And  do  you  know,  Belle,"  she  continued,  as 
she  tied  her  bonnet  on  (they  wore  bonnets  in  those  days), 
"  I  do  not  know  even  to  this  hour  what  has  induced  him  so 
to  befriend  me,  except  that  he  knew  my  mother." 

"  There's  something  at  the  bottom,  Susan  ;  but  come, 
hurry,  I  must  do  a  great  deal  to-day,  and  get  homo  in  tune 
for  Robert," 

We  will  not  follow  Belle  and  her  sister,  for  such  they  had 
already  grown  to  be — fond,  loving,  and  sympathizing  sisters— 


310    THREE  PER  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

tbe  wife  of  one  who,  but  a  few  days  since,  was  the  apparently 
rich  merchant,  and  the  happy  wife  of  the  steady,  industrious 
mechanic — verily  it  has  been  well  said  that  Tempora  mu- 
tantur,  et  nos  mutamos  cum  Mis. 

Whatever  was  the  nature  of  their  business,  it  was  trans 
acted  before  three  o'clock,  and  Belle  reached  home  somewhat 
fatigued,  but  exceedingly  happy,  for  hers  had  been  a  labor 
of  love. 

As  Eobert  would  probably  not  be  at  home  until  five 
o'clock,  she  gave  some  directions  to  Martha,  for  all  the 
others  had  left  already,  and  again  started  out. 

A  brisk  walk  of  a  few  moments,  which  brought  a  glow  to 
ner  cheeks,  found  her  at  the  door  of  Mr.  Hardman's  house 
She  knew  that  he  would  be  at  home  by  that  hour,  and  with 
the  ambition  excited  by  love,  was  anxious  to  finish  what  she 
had  begun,  before  the  day  closed. 

At  her  request,  she  was  shown  into  the  library,  and  the 
servant  was  requested  merely  to  say,  that  a  lady  wished  to 
see  him,  for  she  did  not  care  then  to  see  Mrs.  Hardman  at 
present. 

"  What  I  you  here,  Mrs.  Arnold,"  he  said,  as  he  entered 
and  saw  who  was  his  visitor.  "  Let  me  send  for  Mrs.  Hard 
man." 

"  No,  please  do  not ;  I  came  to  see  you,  and  on  business," 
she  said,  placing  her  hand  on  his  arm  as  he  turned  to  sum 
mon  his  wife.  "  Please  let  me  see  you  a  few  minutes  alone," 
and  bowing,  Mr.  Hardman  seated  himself. 

"  Of  course,  Mr.  Hardman,  you  know  of  my  husband's 
misfortunes  ?" 


V 


PLANNING  FOK  THE  FUTURE.     311 

"I  heard  of  his  failure  yesterday,  and  was  not  at  all 

I 
surprised,  I  have  so  long  and  so  often  warned  him  against  the 

certain  consequences  which  must  follow  his  mode  of  doing 
business,  and  his  extravagance  in  his  mode  of  living." 

"  He  did  not  heed  it,  or  I  would  not  be  here  now  for  my 
present  purpose.  But  let  me  tell  you  at  once  what  has 
brought  me  here.  More  than  the  half,  yes,  all  of  Robert's 
troubles  have  been  caused  by  me.  My  foolish  pride  and 
vanity,  led  me  to  urge  him  on  in  his  course  of  extravagance 
and  folly,  even  when  he  has  told  me  again  and  again  that 
he  ought  to  stop — I  did  not,  and  would  not  listen  to  him — 
no  matter  now  why  I  did  not  ;  I  have  caused  the  trouble,  and 
I  must  do  all  I  can  to  make  amends  for  it.  Of  course  you 
know  we  give  up  the  house  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  presume  so." 

"  Now  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  show  what  a  woman 
can  do,  and  to  prove  that  I  have  not  forgotten  my  duty  as  a 
wife  and  a  mother.  Of  course  we  must  have  a  home  some 
where,  and  as  for  boarding  at  present,  I  think  Robert  would 
be  perfectly  wretched  at  the  very  thought  of  it.  I  have  been 
looking  about  all  the  morning,  and  have  found  a  nice  snug 
part  of  a  house  in  Twenty-fourth  street,  which  I  want  to 
hire — will  you  go  security  for  the  rent  ?  It  is  only  an  hun 
dred  and  fifty  dollars." 

"  Well  really,"  said  Mr.  Hardmau,  taken  somewhat  aback 
at  the  suddenness  and  singularity  of  the  request — "  I —  " 

"  Oh,  pray  do  not  refuse  me.  I  know  that  Robert,  as  soon 
as  he  gets  over  this  trouble,  will  find  something  to  do,  and  I 


THEEE  PEE  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

do  so  wish  him  to  have  a  home.  I  iknow  he  can  pay 
the  rent,  and  if  he  cannot,  I  have  jewelry  more  than  enough 
for  that." 

"And  how  do  you  mean  to  furnish  your  house,  Mrs. 
Arnold  ?"  he  said,  growing  interested  at  this  singular  pro 
position. 

"  Oh  I"  she  exclaimed  eagerly,  "  I  shall  sell  my  jewelry, 
enough  of  it  for  that  purpose,  for  plain  good  things,  and  I 
can  do  very  well  for  the  present.  Please  do  not  refuse  me, 
and  please  do  not  say  a  word  to  Robert  about  it." 

"  Really,"  said  Mr.  Hardman,  thrusting  his  hands  in  hia 
pockets,  and  leaning  back  into  his  chair,  "I  don't  know 
how  " 

"  Oh,  do  not  refuse  me.  Do  not  make  me  feel  that  we 
have  not  one  friend  in  the  world — I  will  see  that  you  do 
not  have  to  pay  the  rent — indeed  I  will.  Do,  dear  Mr. 
Hardman,  do  say  you  will." 

"  I  will,"  he  said,  after  a  momentary  pause,  hitching 
about  uneasily  on  his  chair.  "  You  may  say  that  I  will  go 
your  security." 

"  Oh,  thank  you — thank  you — I  did  not  need  any  thing 
else  to  make  me  happy,"  and  she  spoke  with  such  enthu 
siasm,  and  her  face  expressed  so  much  pleasure,  Mr.  Hard 
man  could  scarcely  realize  that  it  was  Belle  Arnold.  She 
who  a  few  days  ago  was  living  in  the  most  extravagant 
style,  surrounded  with  every  luxury,  so  ready  to  yield  up 
every  thing,  and  so  pleased  at  the  idea  of  having  secured 
humble  apartments  for  her  husband  and  family! 


PLANNING     FOR     THE     F  U  T  U  E  E  .  313 

He  moved  about  nervously  in  his  chair,  and  it  was  evident 
that  he  was  getting  excited.  In  truth  he  was,  and  longed 
to  ask  her  more  of  her  intentions,  but  he  saw  that  she  was 
on  a  mission  of  love — that  she  was  striving  to  prove  herself 
the  wife  and  mother,  and  he  felt  he  had  no  right  then  to 
share  the  pleasure  which  she  had  promised  herself.  He 
honored  the  motive  which  prompted  her  request  to  him,  and 
he  felt  that  with  such  a  wife  to  direct  and  counsel  Robert, 
now  that  she  had  regained  her  senses,  there  was  hope  yet  for 
him. 

"I  can  only  thank  you  now  from  my  heart,  Mr.  Hard- 
man,"  she  said  earnestly,  as  she  arose  to  depart ;  "  I  must 
hurry  home  before  Robert  gets  there,  for  I  do  not  want 
him  to  know  what  I  have  been  doing.  I  mean  to  surprise 
him." 

"  You  cannot  surprise  him  more  than  you  have  myself, 
Mrs.  Arnold,"  he  said,  extending  his  hand,  and  Belle  blushed 
at  the  rebuke  and  compliment.  "  Go  on,  and  I  will  promise 
you  all  will  come  out  right  yet ;  I  will  not  say  a  word  to  your 
husband,  for  I  would  not  deprive  you  of  one  particle  of  the 
happiness  I  see  you  anticipate/'  and  shaking  her  hand 
warmly,  he  led  her  to  the  front  door,  and  she  took  her 
leave. 

"  I  declare,  what  a  day's  work  I  have  done,"  Belle  said  to 
herself,  as  she  walked  rapidly  homeward.  "  But  I  feel  as 
light  and  happy  as  a  school-girl.  I  wonder  what  Robert 
will  say  when  he  knows  what  I  have  been  doing.  Oh,  how 
happy  he  will  be !  I  wish  I  was  out  of  that  house  now,  the 


314    THKEE  PER  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

very  sight  of  it  makes  me  sad,"  and  with  such  thoughts 
running  through  her  active  brain,  she  reached  her 
home. 

Eobert  had  but  just  arrived,  and  was  wondering  where 
she  could  be  at  that  hour,  for  it  was  now  dusk,  when  she 
entered. 

"  Oh,  Belle  dear,  where  on  earth  have  you  been  at  this 
time  of  day  ?" 

"  Ask  me  no  questions  and  I  will  tell  you  no  fibs/'  she 
said  laughing.  "  Come  Martha,  dinner,  we  are  all  very 
hungry." 

"  No,  let  Martha  tend  the  children,  there  are  servants 
enough  to  get  dinner  without  her." 

"  Are  there,  indeed  ?"  she  said,  with  a  meaning  smile,  as 
she  threw  her  hat  and  shawl  on  the  sofa."  You  had  better 
call  them  then,  and  see  if  they  will  come." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  he  said  wonderingly. 

"  It  is  very  easily  explained.  I  have  paid  and  discharged 
all  the  servants  but  Martha.  We  can  get  along  alone  very 
well  for  the  present/'1 

Robert  caught  her  purpose  in  a  moment,  and  thanked 
her  with  a  kiss. 

Everything  now  seemed  to  have  undergone  a  change,  as 
sudden  as  it  was  great,  and  the  dinner  prepared  by  the  com 
bined  efforts  of  Belle  and  Martha,  and  served  by  the  only 
remaining  servant — for  the  rest  had  like  rats  quitted  the  sink 
ing  ship — was  partaken  with  a  zest,  to  which  Robert  and 
Belle  had  long  been  strangers,  They  had  a  long  and  earnest 


PLANNING     FOK     THE     SUTURE.          315 

conversation  after  the  meal  was  concluded,  and  Belle  had 
several  times  to  bite  her  lips  to  prevent  her  from  betraying 
her  secret,  for  she  had  a  secret,  and  meant  to  keep  it,  even 
from  her  husband,  until  the  proper  time  for  him  to  hear  it 


THREE  PEE  CENT.   A  MONTH, 


CHAPTEE   XXXI. 

ANEW   HOME. 

THE  news  of  Mr.  Arnold's  misfortune  spread  with  marvel 
lous  rapidity  throughout  every  house  in  the  "first  class 
neighborhood  "  where  he  resided,  thanks  to  the  zeal  of  the 
dicharged  servants,  and  it  was  astonishing  to  witness  the 
unanimity  of  opinion  among  his  friends. 

Some  knew  long  ago  that  he  was  in  a  bad  way,  and  could 
not  hold  out  much  longer — in  fact,  they  rather  wondered 
that  he  had  kept  up  so  long. 

Others  had  long  suspected  that  he  was  going  too  fast  for 
his  means,  and  would  eventually  break  down.  Others  again 
scouted  at  the  idea  of  his  setting  up  a  carriage  ;  and  still 
others  always  had  believed,  and  now  they  knew,  that  he  had 
no  foundation  upon  which  to  cut  so  great  a  flourish,  and 
were  not  at  all  surprised  at  the  result.  Of  course,  they  were 
to  be  cut,  and  forgotten,  and  the  first  wonder  among  their 
friends  was,  when  they  would  be  sold  out. 

Poor  Belle  !  If  she  could  have  heard  the  remarks  made 
about  her  by  those  upon  whom  she  had  lavished  so  much  at- 


A     NEW     HOME. 

tention,  and  whose  friendship  she  had  so  sedulously  courted, 
she  would  have  felt  almost  vexed,  resigned  as  she  was  to  the 
change,  and  resolved  as  she  was  to  discharge  henceforward 
her  duties  faithfully,  as  a  wife  and  mother. 

But  as  she  might  read  these  pages,  and  as  a  perusal  of 
them  might  awaken  unpleasant  reminiscences,  they  will  be 
omitted.  Every  one  who  has  been  similarly  situated,  has 
found  precisely  the  same  friends — has  heard  exactly  the 
same  remarks,  and  has  probably  wondered  if  there  was  no 
such  thing  as  real  truth  or  friendship  in  the  world.  To  these 
nothing  need  be  said.  To  those  on  whom  fortune  has  not 
yet  frowned,  and  who  have  never  been  compelled  to  resort 
to  three,  per  cent,  a  month,  to  keep  up  appearances,  the  lesson 
may  not  be  lost. 

Belle  had  her  daily  task  to  perform,  and  with  the  aid  of 
Susan,  from  whom  she  was  now  almost  inseparable,  it  was 
performed. 

Robert  left  the  house  each  morning  smiling  and  happy. 
He  had  a  hearty  kiss  for  his  wife.  The  children,  unused  to 
evidences  of  affection  from  him,  clung  about  his  legs  as  he 
put  on  his  hat  and  coat,  and  followed  him  with  longing,  loving 
eyes,  until  the  turn  of  the  corner  hid  him  from  their  sight, 
and  when  he  reached  that  spot,  he  was  always  sure  to  turn 
about  and  blow  them  a  farewell  kiss. 

At  length  his  affairs  down  town  were  settled.  His  credi 
tors  had  taken  everything,  for  he  had  voluntarily  surrendered 
everything  to  them,  and  released  him  from  past  liabilities. 
His  house  was  advertised  to  be  sold,  and  the  sale  of  his  fur- 


318  THREE     PEE     CENT.      A     MONTH. 

nitnre,  by  order  of  the  assignees,  was  duly  announced  by  the 
fashionable  auctioneer,  on  whom  such  sales  generally  devolved, 
and  who  had  made  the  greatest  possible  display  of  the  "  at 
tractive  and  valuable  articles,"  which  would  be  disposed  of, 
in  every  paper  in  the  city. 

The  day  before  the  sale  of  the  furniture  was  to  take  place, 
Robert  came  home  at  an  early  hour.  He  waSj  it  is  true, 
free,  but  whither  was  he  to  turn,  and  what  was  he  to  do  ? 
Hia  family  must  be  kept  together,  he  must  earn  a  living 
somehow,  and  now,  for  the  first  time  he  had  an  opportunity 
to  reflect. 

His  business  was  broken  up,  his  credit  was  ruined,  and  his 
character  was  measurably  impaired,  for  there  were  some 
among  his  creditors  who  were  not  backward  to  impute  to  him 
absolute  and  willful  fraud. 

He  had  been  so  engrossed  with  them — so  anxious  to  ar 
range,  as  far  as  could  be  done,  his  affairs  to  their  satisfaction, 
he  had  scarcely  given  a  thought  to  the  future.  Then  he  had 
told  Belle  that  she  must  be  looking  out  for  some  place  where 
they  could  live  ;  but  he  really  knew  not,  for  he  had  not  in 
quired  what  she  had  done,  or  whether  she  had  paid  any 

attention  to  him  at  all. 

I 
And  to-morrow  he  must  move  out.     The  elegant  house 

with  its  costly  furniture  and  elaborate  decorations,  must  pass 
into  other  hands  ;  and  where  was  he  to  go  ? — No  matter — 
Belle  had  found  some  place,  he  was  sure,  and  when  once  they 
were  settled,  he  would  look  out  for  some  employment. 
He  was  in  a  very  unsettled  state  of  mind  when  he  reached 


A     NEW     HOME. 

his  home — or  rather  his  house,  for  it  was  no  longer  his  home  ; 
and  as  he  opened  the  door  with  his  night-key,  he  stumbled 
over  a  pile  of  trunks  which  filled  the  lower  hall. 

On  entering  the  parlor,  he  found  Belle  and  the  children 
there  awaiting  him.  Their  hats  and  shawls  were  lying  on 
the  piano,  and  he  wondered  where  they  were  going  at  that 
time  of  day. 

A  glance  around  the  parlor  cost  him  one  heavy  sigh,  for 
the  printed  numbers  affixed  by  the  auctioneer  who  would 
reign  there  on  the  morrow,  were  on  every  article  of  furniture, 
and  on  every  ornament. 

"  Belle,  dear,"  he  said  to  his  wife,  after  a  kiss  all  around, 
"I  am  through  at  last.  They  have  found  out  I  have  no 
more  to  give,  and  nothing  to  hope  for,  and  they  have  released 
me.  I  am  free  so  far  as  they  are  concerned." 

"  And  with  a  strong  heart,  and  willing  hand,  if  you  don't 
get  up  again,  I  am  much  mistaken — but  what  tune  is  it  ?  I 
ordered  the  cartmen  to  be  here  at  four." 

"  It  wants  a  quarter,  Belle." 

"  Well,  I  can  wait  a  quarter  now,  though  I  am  anxious 
to  be  off.  Are  you  sorry  to  leave  these,  Robert?"  she 
asked  earnestly,  surveying  the  elegantly  furnished  apart 
ments. 

"  Not  half  so  sorry  as  I  am  that  I  ever  came  into  them. 
But  Belle,  dear,  have  you  found  a  boarding-place  ?  I  have 
been  so  busy  down  town,  I  have  scarcely  given  that  a 
thought,  but  left  it  all  to  you.  Really,  I  had  no  time  to 
attend  to  it,"  he  said,  half  apologetically. 


320     THREE  PER  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

"  And  really,  Robert,  I  don't  think  you  would  have  done 
as  well  as  I  have,  if  you  had  found  the  time.  I  have  man 
aged  to  secure  a  place — a  real  nice  place,  and  with  a  land 
lady  I  am  sure  you  will  like,  for  she  thinks  a  great  deal  of 
you,"  she  said,  smiling. 

"  Of  me  ! — Oh,  Belle  !  you  ought  not  to  go  where  we  are 
known  at  all.  It  will  be  so  unpleasant  for  you.  There  will 
be  so  many  remarks  made." 

"  Not  at  all.  I  give  you  my  promise  that  you  will  never 
hear  a  word  from  her  of  the  past ;  on  the  contrary,  no  one 
feels  more  for  your  troubles  than  she  does,  and  no  one  will 
strive  more  heartily  to  make  you  forget  them." 

"  Well,  dear,  if  you  are  satisfied,  of  course  I  shall  be.  I 
only  want  to  see  you  settled,  and  then  I  will  look  about  for 
something  to  do.  I  see  you  are  packed  up  and  ready." 

"  Yes  ;  we  shall  go  as  soon  as  the  cartmen  come.  Oh 
Robert,  I  have  such  nice  rooms,  and — oh  1  here  they  come  !" 
and  she  sprang  to  the  window,  as  two  carts  drove  up  to  the 
house. 

Rushing  out  to  the  front  door  without  waiting  for  them 
to  ring,  she  hurriedly  gave  her  directions  in  a  low  tone  of  voice, 
and  in  a  few  moments  the  trunks  were  on  the  carts,  and  every 
thing  which  Robert  Arnold  and  his  wife  had  a  right  to  call 
their  own,  had  left  the  house.  That  house — the  scene  of  such 
folly,  vanity,  and  extravagance — that  house  into  which  they 
had  moved  with  such  high  hopes  .and  brilliant  prospects-- 
that  house  which  they  now  left  without  one  sigh  of  regret. 

"  Martha,"  called  Mrs.  Arnold  over  the  basement  stairs. 


A    NEW    HOME.  321 

u  we  are  going  now.  You  look  out  for  the  house  to-night, 
and  to-morrow,  when  the  men  come  in  for  the  sale,  do  you 
come  around — you  know  where,  Martha." 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  said  the  faithful  and  affectionate  girl, 
whose  very  heart  was  wrung  by  the  sad  change  which  had 
overtaken  her  kind  and  indulgent  mistress. 

"Well,  good  night,  Martha.  Look  out  that  the  house 
don't  run  away  from  you;"  she  said  laughingly,  and  entering 
the  parlor,  she  put  on  the  children's  hats  and  shawls,  and 
then  taking  up  her  own,  stood  in  front  of  the  pier-glass  which 
filled  the  space  between  the  front  windows. 

"  Good-bye,  Mrs.  Arnold,"  she  said,  courtseying  to  her 
own  reflection  ;  "it  will  be  a  long  time  before  we  meet 
again  in  such  a  place  as  this.  I  hope  you  will  have  a  nice 
time  of  it.  Come,  Robert — I  ain  ready — come,  sir,  youi 
arm  !  Good-bye,  house  1  good-bye,  folly  !  good-bye,  vanity  ! 
and  may  God  grant  me  happiness  !"  and  she  spoke  with  such 
a  singular  mixture  of  gaiety  and  emotion,  her  husband's 
heart  was  touched,  and  a  feeling  of  sadness  came  over 
him. 

"  I  hope  you  will  like  our  new  boarding-house  and  our 
new  landlady,"  said  Belle,  smiling,  as  the  front  door  closed 
upon  them  for  the  last  time,  and  she  turned  to  take  a  fare 
well  look  of  the  house  which  she  had  entered  with  such  dif 
ferent  feelings. 

"  Anything  that  suits  you  will  suit  me,"  he  replied  ;  "  you 
are  a  dear  cheerful  little  body,  and  if  you  are  contented,  I  am 

snre  I  have  no  right  to  ask  for  more.     If  I  had  only " 

21 


322          THKEE     PER     CENT.      A     MONTH. 

"  There  that  will  do,"  she  hastily  interrupted,  feeling  that  he 
was  about  to  recur  to  the  past,  "  never  mind  preaching  now. 
Let  us  practise  a  little,  and  we  shan't  need  so  much  preach 
ing.  Come,  little  folks,  paddle  on — I  will  tell  you  where  to 
turn,"  she  said  to  her  children,  who  being  a  few  paces 
ahead  of  their  parents,  turned  every  few  steps  to  see  if  they 
were  following.  "  There — turn  to  the  right — up  the  avenue 
— I  hope  you  will  like  the  location,  Robert." 

"  Anything,  Belle — any  place,  only  let  me  know  that  you 
are  contented." 

"  Oh,  of  course  I  am  contented,  as  I  selected  the  place, 
and  I  am  sure  you  will  like  the  landlady,  for  she  thinks  so 
much  of  you,"  and  she  smiled  archly. 

"  There  they  are,"  she  said,  as  she  noticed  the  cartmen, 
who  had  stopped  in  front  of  a  neat  two  story  house,  about 
half  way  between  the  two  avenues  ;  "  it  is  not  quite  so  fash 
ionable  a  location  as  our  own  house,  Robert,  but  perhaps 
yon  will  find  it  as  pleasant." 

"  There — up  stairs — in  the  second  story,  you  know  I  told 
you,"  she  said  hurriedly  to  the  cartmen  :  "  come,  Robert, 
let  me  be  the  first  to  introduce  you  to  your  new  rooms,  and 
to  your  new  landlady." 

"Well,  Robert,  I  hope  you  like  the  rooms?"  asked  his 
wife,  as,  entering  the  parlor,  he  gazed  around  in  wonder  and 
delight.  Everything  was  so  new,  and  nice,  and  neat,  and 
such  an  air  of  comfort  pervaded  everything.  The  carpets,  it 
is  true,  were  of  common  ingrain,  instead  of  velvet  tapestry  ; 
the  chairs,  in  lieu  of  satin  brocade  and  rosewood,  were  of 


A     NEW     HOME.  323 

maple,  with  cane  bottoms.  A  small  mirror  between  the  win 
dows,  did  the  duty  of  the  splendid  and  costly  article  which 
had  reflected  so  much  folly,  and  vanity,  and  thoughtless 
ness. 

Carved  rosewood  had  given  place  to  plain  mahogany, 
but  there  was  an  air  of  comfort  in  the  very  atmos 
phere,  which  made  everything  seem  pleasant  and  cheerful, 
and  which  inspired  Robert  with  a  feeling  of  homencss  to 
which  he  had  ever  been  a  stranger,  for  to  say  that  he  had 
ever  enjoyed  the  true  delights  of  home  in  his  "  first  class 
house  in  its  first  class  neighborhood,"  would  be  to  tell  an 
untruth. 

Belle  watched  him  with  loving,  delighted  eyes,  as  she  saw 
the  expression  of  pleasure  steal  to  his  face  ;  and  as  he  turned 
to  her  and  asked  how  she  was  so  fortunate  as  to  get  such  a. 
nice  place,  she  smiled  archly,  and  replied,  "  I  suppose 
you  thought  I  could  not  do  anything  but  play  lady,  Robert. 
You  will  find  out  your  mistake  before  long,  I  promise 
you." 

"  I  have  found  that  out  already,"  he  said,  as  the  last 
trunk  was  brought  up,  and  the  cartmen  paid,  "  I  should 
really  like  to  know  who  keeps  this  house.  It  looks  so  neat 
and  clean,  and  there  is  such  air  of  comfort  here." 

"  Do  you  want  to  see  the  lady  of  the  house  now  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  it  would  be  as  well,  for  I  don't  know  any 
thing  about  your  arrangements.  But  what  do  you  pay 
here  ?  How  many  rooms  have  you  ?" 

"Oh.  you  can  pay  what  you  choose,  and  you  can  have 


324:    THREE  PEE  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

what  you  choose  if  you  pay  for  it,  only  give  your  orders  and 
have  the  money,  mind,  sir,  the  money,  and  you  shall  have 
whatever  you  call  for." 

"  I  don't  understand  you,  dear  ;  send  for  the  lady  of 
the  house,  and  let  me  see  her.  I  want  to  know  what  kind 
of  woman  she  is.  Does  she  know  anything  about  us  ?" 

"  She  knows  all  about  you,  Robert,  I  told  you  before,  and 
thinks  a  great  deal  of  you." 

"  Oh,  Belle,  you  should  not  have  told  her.  It  was  not 
necessary — not  that  I  care,  but  she  may  make  it  unpleasant 
for  you." 

"  It  is  not  polite  to  interrupt  a  lady,  Mr.  Arnold,"  she 
said  with  mock  severity.  "  Let  me  finish  my  sentence. 
The  lady  of  the  house  knows  all  about  you,  and  thinks  you 
are  one  of  the  dearest,  kindest,  and  best  of  men.  In  fact 
I  really  think — yes,  I  am  sure,  she  loves  you,  but  I  am  not  a 
bit  jealous,  and  you  may  love  her  just  as  much  as  you  please 
— will  you  see  her  now  ?" 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Robert,  rather  mystified  at  his  wife's 
remarks,  which  he  knew  were  playfully  made,  but  which  he 
could  not  interpret. 

"  Then  come  with  me,"  and  thrusting  her  arm  into  his 
own,  she  led  him  in  front  of  the  modest  mirror,  which 
spanned  the  space  between  the  windows,  and  pointing  to  her 
self  reflected  there,  said  in  a  voice  half  trembling,  half 
joyous.  "  There  she  stands,  how  do  you  like  her  looks  ?" 

"  Belle — my  wife — what  does  this  mean  ?"  and  he  turned 
inquiringly  to  her,  laying  a  hand  upon  her  shoulder. 


A     NEW     HOME.  325 

"  It  means,  Robert,  f;hat  while  you  have  been  toiling  and 
slaving  down  town,  I  have  been  busy  up  town  for  you. 
These  are  my  rooms,  sir.  I  hired  them.  I  am  to  pay  for 
them,  and  if  you  will  pay  your  board  punctually,  you  can 
stay  here  with  me  as  long  as  you  like." 

"And  how  in  the  name  of  goodness  have  you  accom 
plished  this  ?"  he  inquired,  astonished,  as  he  well  might  be 
at  this  information. 

"  That  is  my  secret,  dear.  This  is  your  home — my  home 
— our  home,  dear  husband,  and  if  you  are  half  as  happy  as 
my  heart  wishes  to  make  you,  you  will  have  no  cause  to 
regret  the  change.  It  is  all  paid  for  too,  Robert,  I  don't 
owe  a  cent  on  it,  and  you  may  look  about  and  enjoy  it  just  as 
much  as  you  choose." 

"  Tell  me,  dear  Belle,  how  have  you  done  this  ?" 

"The  simplest  thing  in  the  world.  I  found  the  rooms, 
[thanks  to  the  kindness  of  dear  Sue),  I  hired  them,  and  I 
have  paid  for  the  furniture.  You  must  not  ask  any  more 
questions,  for  I  shall  not  answer  them.  Here  is  your  home, 
so  please  take  off  your  hat,  and  make  yourself  perfectly  at 
ease.  You  can  amuse  the  children  while  I  get  tea." 

"  You  Belle — you — surely  you  are  not " 

"  Mr.  Arnold,"  she  said,  resuming  her  air  of  mock  serious 
ness  and  well  affected  dignity,  "  I  beg  you  to  remember  that 
this  is  my  house,  and  I  intend  to  have  my  own  way.  There, 
Bir— amuse  the  children,  or  do  what  you  choose — I  will  call 
you  when  tea  is  ready." 

Robert  gazed  around  fcr  an  instant,  as  if  he  even  yet 


326    THREE  PEK  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

scarcely  realized  his  position.  He  had  just  left  one  home, 
the  scene,  as  it  had  been  the  cause,  of  so  much  unhappiness, 
only  to  find  another  ready  made,  as  it  were,  to  his  hands, 
with  everything  surrounding  him  which  he  now  desired,  and 
more  than  he  had  dared  to  hope  for,  and  it  was  all  through 
her — her  whom  he  had  looked  upon  as  a  weak,  giddy,  vain, 
and  frivolous  woman,  caring  only  for  her  own  pleasures. 

His  train  of  thoughts  was  evidently  pleasant,  for  a  smile 
was  upon  his  face,  as  he  watched  his  children  scampering 
about  from  room  to  room,  and  heard  the  clatter  of  cups  and 
saucers  in  the  adjoining  apartment. 

He  is  now  settled  in  a  new  home,  and  let  us  leave  him 
there  for  the  present. 


A     GLIMPSE    OF     SUNSHINE.  327 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

A   GLIMPSE    OF    SUNSHINE. 

"  WELL,  folks,  all  well  I  hope,"  said  a  merry  cheerful 
voice,  as  the  owner  of  it,  with  a  slight  tap  at  Mrs.  Arnold's 
door,  entered.  "Where  are  the  little  people  ?" 

"  Gone  to  school,  come  in  Sue,  sit  down," 

"  Why,  what  is  the  matter,  Belle,"  said  Susan  Scott,  for  it 
was  her,  "  you  look  as  melancholy  as  a  sexton  in  a  healthy 
season.  Has  anything  happened  ?" 

"  No,  I  wish  something  would  happen,  to  drive  these  sad 
thoughts  away.  I  begin  to  feel  almost  discouraged." 

"  Fiddle  1  discouraged,  Belle  ?  Why  you  have  been  here, 
let  me  see  how  long — a  little  over  two  months,  and  dis 
couraged  already — oh,  my  dear,  you  ought  to  have  been  in 
my  place." 

"There — thank  you  for  that,  Susan — that  remark  has 
brought  my  senses  back.  How  dare  I  murmur  at  anything 
while  I  have  deserved  so  little.  I  won't  find  fault  with  mv 
lot,  and  I  ought  not  to  complain  ;  I  cannot  help  feeling  bad 
for  Robert.  He  has  run  an  dsearched  ever  since  we  have  been 
here,  and  has  not  succeeded  in  finding  anything  to  do  yet 


328          THREE     PEE     CENT.     A     MONTH. 

Poor  fellow,  I  am  so  sorry  for  bin.  He  comes  home  every 
night  with  a  dreadful  long  face,  and  though  he  tries  to  smile 
and  seem  cheerful,  I  can  see  that  he  is  very  desponding.  As 
for  me  I  have  as  much  work  as  I  can  do.  I  can  earn  easily 
five  or  six  dollars  at  this  kind  of  work,"  and  she  held  up  a 
garment  on  which  she  was  embroidering.  "  Little  did  I  ever 
think,  that  the  only  thing  I  can  really  do  well,  would  be  the 
means  of  making  our  living.  And  I  know  how  hard  it 
makes  Robert  feel,  to  see  me  working  so,  though  goodness 
knows  I  am  thankful  for  this.  I  wish  he  could  get  some 
thing  to  do." 

"  And  so  do  I,  and  who  knows  but  that  even  I  may  help 
him?  I  haven't  told  you,  have  I,  how  kind  Mr.  Arnold 
has  been  to  Henry  ?" 

"  No  I  how,  dear  ?  I  know  he  is  one  of  the  best  and  kind 
est  of  men,  and  is  always  doing  good.  How  fortunate  yon 
are  to  have  found  such  a  friend." 

''  Blessed,  you  ought  to  say,  Belle.  How  beautifully  you 
do  embroider,"  she  added,  examining  the  work  on  which  her 
friend  was  engaged.  "  But  I  must  tell  you  of  Mr.  Arnold's 
last  kindness,  and  by  the  way,  do  you  believe  that  even  at 
this  very  honr,  I  can't  imagine  why  he  is  always  doing  for  me." 

"  Can't  you  guess  ?" 

"  I  haven't  the  remotest  idea,  except  that  when  he  first 
saw  me,  and  found  out  my  mother's  name,  he  seemed  to  take 
a  great  interest  in  me,  and  said  I  should  never  want  a  friend, 
and  God  knows  I  never  have  from  that  time.  He  has  put 
Henry  in  partnership  with  dear  good  Mr.  Benson." 


A     GLIMPSE     OF     SUNSHINE.  329 

"  You  don't  say,1'  said  Belle,  biting  off  a  thread,  and  at 
the  same  time  exhaling  a  very  gently  sigh. 

"  Don't  sigh,  dear.  Things  will  be  brighter  one  of  these 
days.  Every  dark  cloud  has  its  edge  of  silver." 

"  Yes,  I  try  to  hope  for  the  best,  but  I  wish  I  was  better 
prepared  for  the  worst.  I  know  it  is  the  dull  season  and 
nobody  is  doing  any  business,  and  I  try  to  encourage 
Kobert  with  the  hope  that  the  spring  will  bring  better 
things,  but  he  shakes  his  head  so  despondingly.  Sometimes 
the  fear  of  coming  to  want  almost  unfits  me  for  work,  but 
when  I  think  of  the  little  mouths  that  must  be  fed,  I  try 
to  chase  away  such  thoughts,  and  make  the  needle  fly.  But 
come !  with  you,  dear  Sue,  to  cheer  me  up,  and  with  the 
remembrance  of  your  dreadful  sufferings  compared  to  my 
anticipations,  I  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  say  a  word.  I 
won't !  Come  make  me  laugh,  and  I  will  be  myself  in  a 
few  moments.  Tell  me  some  pleasant  things  about  yourself. 
How  are  your  wee  ones  ?  Nelly  well  ?" 

"  All  well,  thank  heaven.  They  are  at  school  too,  and  as 
I  had  nothing  special  to  do,  I  thought  I  would  come 
round." 

"  You  are  a  good  kind  soul,"  said  Belle,  looking  at  her  with 
eyes  beaming  love  and  gratitude,  and  as  the  tears  gathered 
on  her  lids,  Susan  perceiving  them,  said  hurriedly  : 

"  Oh,  this  will  never  do,  that  is  the  most  left-handed 
laugh  I  ever  saw.  See,  you  are  spoiling  your  work,"  and 
snatching  it  away  from  Belle,  she  pretended  to  examine  it 
very  closely.  "  No — I  thought  you  had  crossed  those 


330  THREE     PEE     CENT.      A     MONTH. 

stitches.  How  long  will  it  take  you  to  finish  this  ?"  and 
Belle's  thoughts  were  at  once  forced  from  the  channel  into 
which  they  had  commenced  to  flow. 

Susan's  natural  gaiety  of  disposition,  and  her  quick  sense 
of  the  ludicrous,  were  brought  into  requisition  for  this  occa 
sion,  and  they  were  both  soon  in  the  enjoyment  of  laughter 
BO  hearty,  it  would  have  been  thought  rude  among  the  former 
associates  of  Belle,  when  residing  in  her  first  class  house. 

Susan  was  in  the  act  of  relating  some  trifling  adventure 
which  had  befallen  her  a  few  days  before,  and  which  had 
struck  her  as  so  irresistibly  ludicrous,  the  very  remembrance 
of  it  brought  tears  of  laughter  into  her  eyes,  and  Belle  from 
very  sympathy  joined  with  her  most  heartily. 

They  were  suddenly  interrupted  in  the  midst  of  their 
hilarity  by  the  opening  of  the  door  of  the  apartment  in  which 
they  were  seated,  followed  by  the  entrance  of  a  lady,  who, 
pausing  an  instant  on  the  threshold,  was  at  once  recognized 
by  Belle  as  one  of  her  neighbors,  when  they  resided  in  Twen 
ty-second  street,  one  for  whom  Belle  had  conceived  a  great 
regard,  and  with  whom  something  like  an  intimacy  had 
sprung  up. 

That  she  was  a  lady  of  heart,  feeling  and  refinement,  may 
be  inferred,  from  the  fact,  that  she  had  discovered  her  old 
friend,  and  as  soon  as  found,  had  not  hesitated  to  call  on 
her. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Jordan  1"  exclaimed  Belle,  dropping  her 
work,  and  springing  forward  with  a  countenance  eloquently 
speaking  the  pleasure  she  felt.  "  How  kind  of  you — I  am 


A     GLIMPSE      OF     SUNSHINE.  331 

so  glad  to  see  you — my  sister,  Mrs.  Jordan,"  and  she  turned 
to  Susan. 

"  Sister  !  why,  Mrs.  Arnold,  I  never  heard  you  speak  of 
a  sister." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Mrs.  Scott,  adroitly  turning  the  subject, 
for  she  knew  well  what  would  spring  from  Belle's  heart  and 
lips  ;  "  we  have  been  parted  so  long,  there  was  an  uncer 
tainty  whether  we  should  ever  meet  again." 

"  Well,  really,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Jordan,  taking  a  prof 
fered  chair,  "  I  am  delighted  to  see  you — and  how  do  you 
do  ?  Where  are  the  little  folks  ?  By  the  way,  do  you  know 
how  I  found  you  out  ?" 

"  I  am  sure  I  cannot  imagine." 

"  I  met  Robert  and  Ida  going  to  school  the  other  day, 
and  they  told  me,  so  I  am  here.  It  was  unkind  of  you  not 
to  inform  your  friends  where  you  had  gone,"  said  Mrs. 
Jordan,  with  a  marked  emphasis  on  the  word. 

"I  knew  the  ways  of  the  world  so  well,  I  thought " 

"  There,  no  matter,  we  won't  talk  of  that.  How  is  Mr. 
Arnold — what  is  he  doing  now  ? — How  nicely  you  are 
located  here!  I  declare,  it  looks  like  a  little  paradise  !" 

"  And  it  is  so,  Mrs.  Jordan,  for  we  are  very  happy.  Rob 
ert  has  not  yet  found  anything  to  do,  but  I  suppcse  he  will 
in  the  spring,  when  business  commences." 

"  OR,  yes  !  a  smart,  active,  enterprising  young  man  like 
him,  cannot  remain  idle  long.  He  will  soon  find  his  level. 
I  remember  once  when  my  husband  was  a  book-keeper,  he 
lost  one  place  by  the  failure  of  the  concern,  and  he  was  more 


332    THKEE  PEB  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

than  six  months  before  he  got  another,  and  we  had  a  pretty 
tough  time  of  it,  I  assure  you.  But  what  is  this  you  are 
working  at  ?"  and  she  took  up  the  work  which  Belle  had 
dropped  on  her  entrance. 

"  Why,  I  declare,"  she  continued,  examining  it  more 
closely,  "  this  is  strange." 

"  Oh  !  nothing  at  all  strange,  Mrs.  Jordan,"  said  Belle, 

smiling  ;  "  I  am  working  this  for  Mr. ,  in  Broadway. 

I  can  make  five  or  six  dollars  a  week  at  this  kind  of 
work." 

"  I  should  like  to  know,  Belle  Arnold,"  said  Mrs.  Jordan, 
taking  up  the  work,  "  what  he  pays  you  for  this  ?" 

"  Four  dollars,"  said  Belle,  without  the  least  sign  of  con 
fusion. 

"  Well,  if  he  don't  grow  rich  soon,  it  won't  be  his  fault ! 
Why,  Belle,  that  is  a  cloak  which  I  gave  him  to  get  embroi 
dered  for  my  Clara,  and  he  charges  me  twenty  dollars  !  but 
I  will  soon  fix  that.  Come,  let  us  talk  about  other  things. 
How  do  you  do,  and  how  do  you  get  on  ?" 

"  I  am  well  as  you  see,  Mrs.  Jordan,  and  if  Robert  had 
a  situation,  I  should  not  ask  for  anything  more.  We  are  as 
happy  as  the  day  is  long.  He  comes  home  at  night,  tired,  it 
is  true,  and  sometimes  sad,  to  think  he  has  nothing  to  do  ; 
but  then  he  throws  away  all  care  as  soon  as  he  enters  the 
house.  We  take  walks  every  pleasant  evening  with  the  chil 
dren.  In  the  mornings  he  goes  to  market  for  us,  before  he 
goes  down  town — oh  1  I  can't  tell  you — but  we  are  perfectly 
happy  and  contented.  It  won't  be  long  before  he  finds  somy 


A     GLIMPSE     OF     SUNSHINE.  333 

occupation,    and    then    we   shall    have    nothing    more  to 
wish  for." 

This  was  a  strong  expression,  but  Mrs.  Jordan  felt  that  it 
was  truly  uttered,  and  as  she  gazed  around  the  plainly  fur 
nished  apartment,  and  saw  Belle  sewing  away  while  she  was 
talking,  she  felt  convinced  that  it  came  from  the  heart. 

Mrs.  Jordan  paid  a  long  call,  and  made  her  visit  most  wel 
come.  She  was  so  cheerful — so  unostentatious.  She  made 
no  unpleasant  allusion  to  the  past,  though  she  was  hopeful 
for  the  future,  and  bade  Belle  keep  up  her  heart,  encouraging 
her  by  the  kindest  expressions  to  hope  that  all  would  prove 
to  have  been  for  the  best,  and  whea  she  took  her  leave,  Belle 
felt  that  there  was  one  at  least  who  had  not  forsaken  her  in 
her  adversity. 

Mrs.  Jordan  had  not  quitted  the  house  half  an  hour,  when 
Belle  was  startled  and  delighted  by  the  sudden  entrance  of 
Robert,  who  came  in  with  a  countenance  so  expressive  of 
pleasure,  she  was  sure  he  had  some  good  news  to  communicate. 

And  he  had,  indeed  !  His  anxious  search  for  a  situation 
had  at  length  been  crowned  with  success,  and  he  had  that 
morning  secured  a  place  as  salesman,  with  a  concern  just 
established.  He  was  to  commence  on  the  morrow,  and  had 
hastened  home  to  communicate  the  joyful  intelligence  to  his 
wife,  by  whom  it  was  received  with  as  much  pleasure  as  he 
had  desired  in  making  it  known  to  her. 

Susan  too,  sympathized  heartily  with  them  in  their  joy,  and 
their  hearts  were  touched  by  her  sincere  and  earnest  con 
gratulations. 


334:     THREE   PEE  CENT.   A   MONTH. 

"  Misfortunes  never  come  single,  you  know,  Eobert,"  said 
his  wife,  "  and  it  is  a  bad  rule  which  won't  work  both 
ways." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  Why,  we  have  had  a  call  this  morning." 

"  Indeed  !  Who  on  earth  thinks  enough  of  us  now  to 
call  ?" 

"  Mrs.  Jordan  ;  and  she  was  the  chance  bearer  of  good 
news.  She  saw  my  w6rk  here,  for  which  I  am  to  get  four 
dollars,  and  who  dd  you  suppose  it  is  for  ?" 

"  I  am  sure  I  cannot  guess." 

"  Why,  for  herself ;  and  do  you  believe,  he  charges  her 
twenty  dollars  for  what  he  pays  me  four." 

"  That's  a  fair  business  operation." 

"  Well,  she  did  not  seem  to  think  so,  for  she  promised  she 
would  get  me  plenty  of  the  same  kind,  at  double  what  I  am 
getting  now.  What  do  you  think  of  that  ?" 

"  Only  that  she  is  a  dear,  kind-hearted  woman,  and  that 
you  are  a  nice  industrious  little  wife.  But,  Belle,  now  we 
are  on  the  high  road  to  wealth  again,"  he  continued  with 
a  well  affected  air  of  earnestness,  "  I  have  an  idea  of  making 
a  little  change." 

"  Why,  Robert,"  said  his  wife,  anxiously,  for  he  had  com 
pletely  deceived  her,  "  what  are  you  thinking  about  ?" 

"  I  don't  think  this  part  of  a  house  is  hardly  large  enough 
for  our  family.  I  know  where  there  is  one  at  four  hundred 
dollars,  which  would  suit  us  exactly,"  and  he  turned  to  Su 
san  with  an  expression  which  she  caught  instantly. 

"  You  see  you  can  make  at  least  five  or  six  dollars  a  week, 


A      GLIMPSE      OF      SUNSHINE.  335 

the  children's  schooling  don't  cost  anything,  and  we  can  easily 
pay  that  much  rent.  Besides,  the  house  is  in  a  much  better 
neighborhood  than  this,  and  then  we  can  have  it  all  to  our 
selves." 

"  Eobert  dear,"  said  his  wife  entreatingly,  for  she  feared 
he  was  in  earnest. 

"  Yes,  and  I  don't  doubt  that  in  a  short  tune,  when  they 
find  out  I  an»to  good  a  salesman,  they  will  cheerfully  give 
me  at  least  a  uiousand,  and " 

By  this  time  tears  had  gathered  to  Belle's  eyes,  and  she 
was  about  giving  vent  to  the  feelingg  which  his  words  had 
aroused  within  her,  when  she  caught  a  telegraphic  glance 
passing  between  her  husband  and  Susan. 

The  truth  flashed  upon  her,  and  hastily  dashing  away  her 
tears,  she  said,  "  I  have  a  great  mind  not  to  get  a  mouth 
ful  of  dinner  for  you,  sir,  for  making  me  feel  so  !" 

But  she  was  too  happy  "  to  feel  so  "  many  moments,  and  a 
long  and  pleasant  conversation  ensued  concerning  the  past 
and  present.  For  the  past  there  were  no  regrets  (except 
those  known  only  to  their  own  hearts  for  faults  committed)  j 
for  the  present  they  were  truly  grateful,  and  were  perfectly 
happy. 

The  next  morning,  at  an  early  hour,  Robert  Arnold  was 
seen  hastening  around  to  a  meat  stall  in  the  vicinity,  with 
his  little  basket,  accompanied  by  Ida,  who  was  running  along 
by  his  side,  chattering  and  finding  cause  for  happiness  in  eve 
rything  she  saw.  The  humble  marketing  was  soon  com 
pleted,  and  Belle  prepared  their  morning  meal,  whicli  was 


836    THKEE  PEK  CENT.  A  MONTH, 

eaten  with  a  relish,  such  as  had  rarely  been  known  in  theii 
first  class  house. 

With  a  hearty  kiss  of  love  all  around,  Robert  took  hi? 
leave  for  the  day,  and  started  to  commence  the  duties  of  his 
new  position. 


UNCLE  GEORGE  AND  HIS  PROTEGEE.  337 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

UNCLE     GEORGE      AND      HIS      PROTEGEE. 

"  HERE,  young  woman,  where  are  you  going  at  this  time  of 
day,  and  what  are  you  doing  in  this  neighborhood  ?"  was 
the  salutation  which  met  the  ear  of  our  friend  Susan,  one 
fine  morning,  about  two  months  after  the  occurrences  detailed 
in  our  last  chapter. 

At  the  sound  of  the  voice  so  familiar  to  her  ears,  and  so 
very  dear  to  her  heart,  she  turned,  and  faced  Mr.  Arnold — 
Uncle  George. 

"  What  have  you  there  ?"  he  said,  pointing  to  a  package 
she  was  carrying  in  her  hand,  neatly  done  up  in  a  nap 
kin. 

"  Some  jelly  for  a  sick  child.  I  made  it  up  yesterday,  and 
I  thought  I  would  take  it  around  myself  early  this  morning. 
I  should  like  to  ask,  if  I  dared,"  she  said  with  an  arch  ex 
pression,  "  what  you  are  doing  in  this  neighborhood  at  this 
time  of  day,  Mr.  Arnold  ?" 

"  That  is  easily  answered,"  he  replied,  laughing.  "  I  ex 
pect  to  meet  your  husband  a  little  further  up.  I  have  some 
22 


838     THEEE  PEB  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

vacant  lots  on  which  I  desire  to  build,  and  I  want  to  consult 
him  about  them.  You  know  I  have  great  faith  in  the  judg 
ment  of  the  firm  of  Benson  &  Co." 

"  God  bless  you,  sir  1  they  all  have  faith  in,  and  love  for 
you." 

"  Pshaw!  you  talk  like  a no  you  don't  either — whoso 

child  is  sick  ?" 

"  You  will  not  be  very  angry  if  I  tell  you  something  f7* 
she  said  inquiringly.  . 

11  Not  very,  if  I  can  help  it.  But  that  is  no  answer  to  my 
question." 

"  Robert  Arnold's  !"  and  Uncle  George's  countenance, 
which  had  before  been  wreathed  in  smiles,  fell  very  sensi 
bly. 

"  I  know,  dear  Mr.  Arnold,  what  you  told  me  when  I  was 
at  your  store  some  months  ago,  but  she  was  in  great  distress 
— in  trouble.  She  was  very  unhappy,  and  I  could  not  forget 
that  we  had  once  belonged  to  the  same  family,  at  least,  and 
she  loves  me  very  much." 

"  She  loves  you,  and  you  love  her  ?"  he  said,  with  an  air 
which  was  intended  to  mean,  "  I  don't  believe  a  word  of 
it." 

"  With  all  my  heart.  We  are  together  as  much  as  my 
duties  will  allow,  and  I  don't  know  any  one  who  is  more 
truly  happy  to  see  me.  We  don't  think  or  speak  of  the 
past." 

"  You  don't,  I  dare  say,"  said  Uncle  George,  with  a  very  , 
meaning  expression,  gazing  with  undisguised  pleasure  upon 
the  frank,  ingenuous  countenance  of  his  protegee. 


UNCLE     GEORGE     AND     HIS     PKOTEGEE.    339 

"  She  would  if  I  would  allow  her  to,  Mr.  Arnold,  but  I 
have  forbidden  the  subject.  Why,  you  never  saw  such  a 
change  in  your  life  in  any  person,  as  has  taken  place  in  her. 
She  is  one  of  the  dearest,  sweetest  little  women  I  ever  knew. 
She  is  the  nicest,  tidiest  little  housekeeper — her  children  are 
like  pinks,  and  she " 

"  I  suppose  they  have  a  fine  brown  stone  house  agaid." 

"  They  have  three  nice  little  rooms  in  a  nice  little  house  in 
Twenty -fourth  street,  and  they  are  as  happy  as  the  day  is  long. 
Belle  has  plenty  of  work.  She  does  embroidery  for  a  store 
in  Broadway,  and  her  husband,  after  looking  about  for 
nearly  three  months,  found  a  situation  in  Cedar  street,  where 
he  gets  five  hundred  dollars  a  year.  I  wish  you  could  see 
them  once,  when  he  comes  home  in  the  evening.  They  acl 
more  like  children  than  anything  I  can  think  of." 

"  You  seem  to  be  perfectly  familiar  with  everything  con 
cerning  them,"  said  Mr.  Arnold,  trying  to  appear  uninter 
ested. 

"  I  ought  to  be.  Am  I  not  her  sister  ?  But  I  forgot — 
you  have  not  told  me  if  you  are  very  angry.  You  know  you 
forbade  me " 

"  I  know  you  are  a  good-hearted  little  woman,  and  I  will 
tell  you  some  other  time  whether  I  am  angry  or  not.  What 
is  the  matter  with  the  child  ?" 

"  She  has  had  an  intermittent  fever,  but  is  getting  better. 
Poor  Belle  has  had  a  hard  time  of  it,  tending  her  child,  and 
doing  her  work  for  the  store,  besides  all  the  housework — 
cooking,  washing,  and  ironing.  But  she  never  murmurs  nor 
complains,  though  I  know  she  has  a  hard  trial." 


340  THREE      PER      CENT.      A     MONTH. 

"  Why  don't  she  get  a  girl  ?"  asked  Uncle  George,  with 
an  air  of  interest. 

"  Oh,  they  can't  afford  that  yet.  Five  hundred  a  year 
for  four,  and  house  rent,  coal,  clothes,  and  other  odds  and 
ends,  don't  #o  very  far.  No,  Mr.  Arnold,  they  don't  dream 
of  such  a  thing.  It  is  as  much  as  they  can  do  to  make  both 
ends  meet,  any  how." 

"  Where  did  you  say  Robert — I  mean  Mr.  Arnold — was 
employed  ?" 

"  I  think  he  told  me  it  was  Ames  &  Johnson,  in  Cedar 
street." 

"  Ah,  thank  you.     And  how  is  his  wife  ?" 

"  Oh,  as  well  as  could  be  expected,  considering  the  hard 
work  she  has.  However,  she  hopes  for  better  times,  and  so 
do  I,  for  I  do  love  her  dearly." 

Mr.  Arnold  looked  at  his  companion  as  she  spoke,  and  he 
could  not  help  feeling  that  any  one  who  could  have  won  the 
love  of  such  a  woman,  could  not  be  very  unworthy.  But  he 
said  nothing  more  concerning  them. 

"  There.,  go  along — be  a  good  girl,  and  see  if  you  can't 
mind  me  better  next  time,"  he  said,  as  he  was  about  to  leave 
her  at  the  corner  of  the  avenue  which  they  had  now  reached. 
"  If  your  mother  had  been  alive  " 

"  Dear  Mr.  Arnold,"  said  Susan,  laying  her  hand  fami 
liarly  and  affectionately  upon  his  arm,  "  will  you  not  tell  me 
now  why  it  is  that  you  have  been  so  kind,  and  have  taken 
such  an  interest  in  me  ?  You  said  when  you  first  saw  me, 
that  you  would  befriend  me  for  my  mother's  sake." 


UNCLE  GEORGE  AND  HIS  PROTEGEE.  341 

"  And  I  will  do  so  for  your  own  sake,  Susan,  for,  apart 
from  the  love  I  bore  your  mother,  I  love  you  for  yourself." 

"  And  you  loved  my  mother,"  she  said,  looking  at  her 
companion  with  moistened  eyes.  "  Dear — good  Mr.  Ar 
nold." 

"  Better  than  my  life,  Susan,  or  I  should  have  been  mar 
ried  years  ago.  But  come,  I  shall  be  angry  if  you  ask  me 
any  more  questions.  Go  about  your  business,  and  tend  the 
sick  child,  and  don't  ever  ask  me  any  more  questions.  You 
know  more  now  than  you  ought  to." 

"  Not  more  than  you  wished  I  should  know,  Mr.  Arnold. 
Surely  it  was  not  wrong  in  me  to  wish  to  know  why  you 
should  so  befriend  and  aid  a  poor,  uncared-for  woman  like 
myself." 

"  Susan  Scott,  hold  your  tongue,  and  go  about  your  busi 
ness,  or  I  shall  be  very  angry,"  and  he  looked  so  very 
unlike  an  angry  man,  with  his  eyes  moistened  by  tears  of 
mingled  joy  and  sorrow,  Susan  felt  very  much  like  throw 
ing  herself  on  his  neck,  and  having  a  good  cry.  But  tht> 
time  and  place  were  not  opportune  for  such  an  expression 
of  feeling,  and  she  forbore  ;  but  took  her  leave  of  him  with 
such  expressions  of  gratitude,  devotion  and  love,  as  caused 
him  to  blow  his  nose  with  tremendous  energy,  and  he  turned 
away  without  vouchsafing  a  word  of  reply. 

Susan  did  not  fail  to  repeat  the  conversation  which  had 
occurred  at  this  interview,  to  Belle,  to  whom  as  well  as  to 
her  husband,  it  afforded  great  pleasure,  as  it  indicated  that 
he  had  not  lost  all  interest  in  them. 


342    THREE  PER  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

An  impression,  however,  was  made  upon  Mr.  George 
Arnold  by  the  simple,  unadorned  statement  of  Susan,  which 
led  hun  first  to  thinking  and  then  to  acting.  He  thought 
that  if  they  could  be  so  happy  and  contented  hi  their  present 
circumstances,  in  view  of  the  very  great  change  in  their 
position  and  mode  of  living,  there  was  hope  that  he  might 
yet  be  brought  to  a  realization  of  his  true  position,  and  if 
Providence  should  again  favor  him,  that  he  would  not  waste 
in  extravagance  and  folly  the  gifts  lavished  upon  him. 


BRIGHTER     PROSPECTS.  843 


CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

BRIGHTER     PROSPECTS. 

Six  months  have  passed  away,  and  each  month  has 
brought  added  peace,  comfort  and  happiness  to  the  home 
and  hearts  of  Robert  and  his  wife,  and  those  words  are 
used  in  their  most  comprehensive  sense. 

It  is  true  that  Robert  was  pained,  mortified,  and  often 
goaded  to  anger  by  the  remarks  which  he  had  heard  of  his 
past  career,  but  the  consciousness  that  he  had  fully  deserved 
all  that  could  be  said  of  him,  taught  him  submission.  The 
"  Moonshine  Insurance  Co.,"  of  which  he  was  one  of  the 
directors,  was  near  costing  him  very  serious  trouble,  but 
when  his  persecutors  found  that  nothing  could  be  gained 
from  him,  they  abandoned  any  further  attempts,  and  he  was 
left  in  peace. 

The  examination  into  the  affairs  of  the  company,  exhibited 
a  regular  system  of  swindling  and  fraud  from  its  inception 
until  its  books  were  closed  by  legal  process.  The  capital 
on  which  they  had  commenced  had  been  temporarily  bor 
rowed,  and  returned  within  a  tew  days  on  payment  of  a 


344:    THREE  PER  CENT.   A.  MONTH. 

handsome  per  centage  for  the  use  of  the  money,  and  all  the 
assured  were  likely  to  receive  for  their  paid  premiums, 
amounted  to  less  than  nothing,  for  every  dollar  had  been 
swallowed  up  in  the  expenses  of  the  company,  or  in  the 
payment  of  fictitious  losses  to  stockholders  and  directors. 

But  Robert  and  his  wife  were  peaceful,  comfortable  and 
happy  now.  The  sky  was  once  more  bright  above  them. 
Robert's  salary  with  the  amount  which  Belle  received  from 
her  work,  enabled  them  not  only  to  live,  but  they  had 
actually  saved  up  over  an  hundred  dollars  ;  for  Robert  had 
really  commenced  to  save,  and  perhaps  the  city  held  few 
prouder  men  than  Robert  Arnold,  when  he  could  count  one 
hundred  dollars  as  his  actual  savings  in  six  months. 

His  daily  duties  were  faithfully  and  cheerfully  performed. 
Each  morning  early  he  started  off  with  his  little  basket 
to  the  meat  shop  where  he  dealt.  Sometimes  alone,  some 
times  with  one  of  the  children  clinging  to  him,  while  Belle, 
the  happy,  cheerful,  industrious  housekeeper,  was  pre 
paring  their  morning  meal. 

His  services  seemed  to  be  duly  appreciated  by  his  employ 
ers,  for  during  the  cessation  of  business,  they  voluntarily 
offered  to  allow  him  two  weeks  of  absence  from  the  store. 
On  consultation,  however,  with  Belle,  he  determined  not  to 
avail  himself  of  their  kindness,  but  preferred  to  take  a  day 
at  a  time  during  the  idle  season,  and  these  he  improved  by 
taking  his  family  on  short  trips  to  Staten  Island — or  up  the 
North  River — anywhere,  where  pleasure  could  be  had  with 
out  paying  too  dearly  for  it. 


BRIGHTER     PROSPECTS.  345 

Neither  of  them  sighed  for  Newport  or  Saratoga,  and 
when  they  were  named  at  all,  it  was  with  a  tinge  of  sadness 
and  Borrow  for  the  folly  they  had  exhibited  there,  both 
uniting  in  the  declaration  that  they  had  never  beftre  known 
such  true  happiness  as  they  now  enjoyed. 

Just  before  the  fall  business  commenced,  Eobert  was 
called  into  the  office  by  his  employers,  and  informed  that  in 
consideration  of  his  past  attention,  and  the  customers  he 
had  brought  to  the  store,  they  had  determined  to  show  their 
appreciation  in  a  manner  which  they  thought  would  be  most 
approved  by  him.  They  presented  him  with  a  check  for 
two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  and  announced  that  his 
salary  was  raised  to  one  thousand  dollars. 

Robert's  heart  was  so  full  of  joy  at  this  most  welcome, 
but  most  unexpected,  turn  hi  the  wheel  of  fortune,  he  could 
not  properly  express  his  gratitude,  but  his  countenance 
spoke  it  so  eloquently,  his  employers  read  his  thoughts,  and 
took  the  will  for  the  deed. 

When  he  left  the  store  that  night,  he  almost  ran  home 
ward,  so  anxious  was  he  to  communicate  his  good  news  to 
Belle,  and  he  was  nearly  out  of  breath  when  he  reached  his 
house.  He  had  drawn  his  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  in ' 
gold,  and  kept  his  hand  on  the  pocket  where  it  was  placed, 
all  the  way  from  the  store  to  his  house.  A  year  ago,  and 
he  would  have  spent  that  sum  for  one  night  of  miscalled 
pleasure. 

Belle,  who  was  seated  at  her  work  when  he  returiled,  was 
half-startled  at  the  expression  of  his  face,  as  he  entered  the 


346    THKEE  PEE  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

| 

room,  but  when  he  advanced  and  threw  into  her  lap  the 
shower  of  gold,  it  was  at  once  accounted  for,  and  her  coun 
tenance  became,  in  an  instant,  the  reflex  of  his  own. 

"  Dear  Robert,"  she  said,  looking  at  the  bright  pieces  with 
eyes  which  fairly  seemed  to  devour  them,  "  where  did  you 
get  these  ?  What  does  this  mean  ?  Surely,  you  have  not 
been  buying  lottery  tickets  ?" 

"  Yes  I  have,  Belle.  I  bought  one  the  day  I  married, 
and  drew  a  prize,  but  I  never  got  paid  until  now.  No; 
Belle,  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it.  Come,  hurry  up  tea,  and 
then  you  shall  hear — what  you  shall  hear." 

Tea  was  hurried  up,  of  course,  and  to  her,  seated  at  their 
cheerful  table,  Robert  recounted  the  occurrence  of  the  day. 

"  And  now,  Belle,"  he  said,  as  he  concluded,  "  that  is  a 
good  nest  egg.  We  must  salt  that  down,  and  see  what 
it  will  come  to  in  time.  But  one  thing  I  want  to  insist 
upon." 

"  Well,  out  with  it.  I  suppose  you  want  to  set  up  a 
carriage  again  on  the  strength  of  your  day's  luck  ?" 

"Not  exactly.  But  I  want  you  to  give  up  working  for 
others  any  longer.  You  ought  to  have  a  girl  to  help  you, 
too,  and  " 

"And,  pray,  what  should  I  do  the  livelong  day,  with  the 
children  away  at  school  ?  I  tell  you  what,  Mister  Robert ; 
I  won't  do  any  such  thing,  and  there  is  an  end  of  it.  Yon 
know  what  they  say  of  woman  : 

"  '  If  she  will,  she  will,  you  may  depend  upon  it, 
And  if  she  won't,  she  won't,  and  there's  an  end  on't ' 


BRIGHTER     PROSPECTS.  347 

And  I  won't.  That's  plump.  I  am  healthy,  hearty,  and 
happy  now.  I  never  was  happier  in  my  life,  and  I  was 
never  so  proud,  as  when  I  receive  each  week  what  I  fairly 
earn.  I  have  no  objection  to  have  a  woman  do  our  wash 
ing,  for  that  is  hard  work  ;  and  if  you  think  you  can  afford 
it.  Beyond  that  I  will  not  go,  and  that's  plump,  again.  I 
had  my  own  way  to  your  injury,  and  I'll  have  it  now  to 
your  good.  So  drink  your  tea,  and  hold  your  tongue." 

"But,  Belle,  dear"— 

"  I  wont  be  deared.  I  will  be  minded,"  she  said,  with  a 
mixture  of  playfulness  and  earnestness.  "  Suppose  you 
should  fall  sick,  or  I  should  fall  sick,  or  anything  should 
happen  to  your  employers,  and  you  should  lose  your 
place." 

"  No  fear  of  that,"  said  Eobert,  laughingly  interrupting 
her,  "  they  don't  go  into  Wall  street  and  borrow  at  three 
per  cent,  a  month  ;  they  are  bound  to  go  a-head,  for  they 
are  careful,  prudent  men,  and  won't  do  as  somebody  I 
know  of,"  and  his  countenance  fell  slightly  as  he  spoke. 

"  And  you  must  not  think  of  doing  as  somebody  I  know 
of  once  did.  No,  what  we  have  here  would  keep  us  for 
six  months  in  case  of  sickness  or  misfortune,  and  as  you 
gave  it  to  me  to  keep,  I  mean  to  keep  it.  Rely  upon  that ; 
and,  as  we  have  lived  on  your  five  hundred  a  year  and  my 
earnings,  we  can  continue  to  live  ;  and  when  I  say  that  I 
have  never  been  happier  or  more  contented,  you  ought  to 
be  satisfied.  That  extra  five  hundred  you  are  to  receive 
may  serve  us  one  of  these  days,  when  you  little  think  of  it." 


348    THREE  PER  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

Of  course  Robert  yielded  to  his  wife,  and  the  only  change 
in  their  mode  of  living  was  made  by  hiring  a  woman  to 
come  weekly  and  do  their  washing  ;  for,  beyond  that,  Belle 
resolutely  refused  to  advance  one  step. 

Susan  Scott  was  a  regular  visitor  at  Mrs.  Arnold's  ;  the 
only  one  for  whose  presence  she  cared  at  all,  except  Mrs. 
Jordan,  and  Mrs.  Hardman,  for  both  of  these  ladies  who 
had  loved  her  at  first  for  herself,  loved  her  now  the  more 
that  she  exhibited  so  many  sterling  qualities. 

Susan  called  around  on  tne  day  after  the  joyful  news 
just  detailed,  had  been  made  known  to  Belle,  and  the  sin 
cerity  of  her  joy,  when  it  was  communicated  to  her,  was 
abundantly  exhibited  by  her  words  and  manners. 

"  Oh,  never  fear,"  she  said  after  hearing  Belle's  narration 
of  the  previous  day's  occurrences,  "brighter  hours  will 
come.  With  your  husband's  energy  and  your  saving  dispo 
sition,  I  shouldn't  wonder  to  see  you  rich,  yet." 

"  Rich  1  I  don't  believe  I  want  to  be  rich,  Susan,"  said 
Belle.  "  I  almost  hate  the  word.  I  didn't  know  myself 
until  I  was  poor.  I  didn't  half  know  my  husband  while  1 
was  rich,  and  now  that  I  have  learned  so  much,  I  would 
not  like  to  forfeit  it.  No,  no.  I  am  happy,  and  my  heart 
cannot  wish  for  more.  I  wish  Robert's  uncle  only  knew 
how  hard  we  strive  now  to  make  up  for  our  past  folly," 
said  Belle,  half  musingly. 

Susan  made  no  reply,  but  said  mentally,  "  Robert's  uncle 
knows,  perhaps,  more  than  you  think  of." 

"  Only  think,  Sue,"  said  Belle,  exultingly,   "  I  have  got 


BKIGHTEE     PROSPECTS.  349 

over  three  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  put  away.  Why,  I 
remember  the  time  when  Robert  thought  nothing  of  spend 
ing  twice  that,  just  to  please  me.  I  shall  never  forget  that 
time  he  gave  me  the  piano,  the  stupid,  useless  thing.  I 
never  opened  it.  Why,  it  cost  him  four  hundred  and 

seventy-five  dollars,  and .  Ah,  well,I  don't  think  I 

would  spend  money  that  way  again." 

"  Oh,  never  mind  the  past,  dear,"  said  Susan  affection 
ately,  for  she  saw  that  her  friend  was  getting  into  an 
unpleasant  train  of  thought.  "  I  have  some  good  news  to 
tell  you  of  myself." 

"  I  am  sure,  I  am  heartily  glad  of  it.  What  is  it, 
Sue  ?" 

"Mr.  Arnold  made  me  a  present  yesterday.  What  do 
you  think  it  was  ?  It  was  my  birthday." 

"  I  am  sure,  I  can't  guess.     A  watch  ?" 

"  Guess,  again." 

"  Not  a  carriage  and  horses,  I  hope,"  said  Belle,  with 
a  smile 

"Try  again." 

"  I  know  he  does  not  give  useless  things,  and  I  can't 
guess." 

"  He  bought  that  dear  little  cottage  where  we  live,  and 
gave  it  to  me  for  my  own,"  and  her  eyes  moistened  as  she 
spoke  of  the  kindness  received  from  her  benefactor.  "  Yes, 
Belle,"  she  continued,  "  and  now,  no  matter  what  happens, 
you  shall  always  have  a  home." 

Belle  could  make  no  reply  to  this,  for  the  memory  of  her 


350     THKEE  PER  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

past  wrongs  to  the  speaker  arose  up  in  condemnation  before 
her,  and  such  kindness  was  almost  painful. 

Sasan  saw  and  appreciated  her  feelings,  and  throwing 
her  arms  about  her  neck,  said,  as  she  kissed  her,  "  Don't 
feel  so,  Belle,  dear,  you  wouldn't  if  you  knew  how  I  loved 
you "  ^ 

'•  That's  what  makes  me  feel  bad,  Susan.  I  always  wish 
I  could  have  a  good  cry  when  you  talk  so,  for  I  cannot  for* 
get  how  " 

"  There — good-by.  I  can't  stay  any  longer  when  you 
begin  to  speak  in  that  manner,"  said  Susan,  interrupting 
her,  and  rising  as  if  to  take  her  departure. 

"  Dear  Susan — my  kindest  and  best  friend,  forgive  me  ; 
but  I  should  be  heartless,  indeed,  if  I  were  to  forget  my 
own  unkindness  to  you,  and  your  great  goodness  to  me. 
Don't  ask  me  to  forget,  unless  you  expect  me  to  change  my 
nature.  What  would  I  have  done  without  you,  dear 
Susan  ?" 

"  Sure  enough,  I  quite  forgot  that,"  said  Susan,  reseat 
ing  herself,  for  she  had  arisen  as  if  to  take  her  leave,  though 
she  would  not  have  left  Belle,  feeling  as  she  did,  on  any 
account ;  but  she  knew  that  the  only  mode  by  which  she 
could  prevent  a  recurrence  of  unpleasant  reminiscences,  was 
by  pretending  anger,  or  some  other  emotion  equally  disa 
greeable  to  Belle. 

They  really  loved  each  other  now.  Belle,  who  was  hi 
truth  a  noble-hearted,  self-sacrificing  woman,  though  she 
never  knew  it,  until  misfortune  brought  out  her  good  quali- 


BRIGHTER      PROSPECTS.  851 

ties,  loved  Susan  with  all  her  heart  and  soul — not  alone  for 
the  ready  promptness  with  which  she  had  first  consented  to 
assist  her  when  the  dark  cloud  of  adversity  had  broken  over 
them  with  such  terrible  force,  but  because  she  had  seemed 
to  (as  she  really  did)  forget  her  past  unkindness,  and  her 
most  unwomanly  repulse  when  Susan  was  in  the  very  depths 
of  despair. 

And  Belle's  love  was  returned  with  true  sisterly  affection. 
Susan  had  suffered  and  had  found  friends  in  her  darkest 
hour  of  distress.  She  had  known  poverty,  want,  degrada 
tion,  and  having  been  by  God's  providence  raised  to  com 
fort  and  comparative  affluence,  her  heart  had  been  softened 
and  her  spirit  chastened  by  the  trials  through  which  she  had 
passed,  and  this  prompted  her  the  more  readily  to  sympa 
thise  with  and  aid  one  who  had  a  claim  upon  her  heart, 
which,  though  it  had  once  been  denied,  had  been  gladly 
acknowledged  when  urged  by  the  claim  of  misfortune. 

"  I  tell  you  what,  Belle,"  said  Susan,  anxious  to  divert 
her  friend's  thoughts  from  their  present  channel.  "  To-mor 
row  is  Saturday.  Bring  the  children  around  and  spend  the 
day  with  me.  You  know  they  have  no  school  to-morrow, 
and  they  will  have  a  fine  time  with  Nelly  and  Susan.  Tell 
Robert  in  the  morning  when  he  leaves  for  his  business  that 
he  will  find  you  at  our  house.  Come,  that's  a  dear.  Its 
my  house  now,  you  know,  and  you  shall  christen  it.  I  won't 
hear  any  excuses.  You  will  come,  won't  you  ?" 

"  I  will,  Susan,"  said  Belle,  whose  heart  was  too  fall  for 
many  words,  for  she  could  not  so  readily  erase  the  memories 
of  the  past.  "  I  will.  Of  course  I  must  bring  my  work  1" 


352    THREE  PER  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

"  Of  course,  and  if  you  get  through  before  dark,  I  will 
manage  to  find  some  plain  sewing  for  you  to  do,  so  you  need 
not  fear  you  will  be  idle.  Now  I  must  be  off.  Henry,  you 
know,  comes  home  between  six  and  seven,  and  his  tea  would 
be  no  tea  without  his  darling,"  and  she 'laughed  merrily 
as  she  tied  on  her  bonnet,  at  the  very  thought  of  her  own 
and  her  husband's  happiness. 

"  Now  mind — come  around  early,  and  be  sure  and  tell 
Robert  to  come  after  you  when  he  comes  home." 

Belle  had  a  real  "  good  cry  "  when  Susan  had  left,  and 
after  she  had  wiped  her  eyes  and  washed  her  face,  she  felt 
all  the  happier  for  it.  Every  tear  had  come  from  her  heart, 
and  a  truer,  nobler  heart  never  beat  in  woman's  breast. 


CHRISTMAS     AND      A     SURPRISE.  353 


CHAPTER    XXXV. 

CHRISTMAS      AND      A     SURPRISE. 

CHRISTMAS  had  come  around  again,  bringing  with  it  the 
joys  and  pleasures,  as  well  as  the  cares  and  sorrows  of  the 
season — for  there  is  no  season,  even  of  joy  and  happiness, 
unalloyed  by  sorrow. 

It  was  Christmas  eve,  and  Robert,  who  had  reached  home 
from  the  store  quite  early,  proposed  that  after  the  evening 
meal  was  finished,  they  should  take  the  children  and  spend 
an  hour  or  two  in  Broadway,  loooking  at  the  curiosities  in 
the  store  windows. 

Of  course  this  proposition  was  received  with  delight  by  all, 
especially  by  the  children,  who  had  not  grown  too  old  to  be 
unmindful  of  Santa  Glaus,  and  whose  little  heads  were  full 
of  wonder  as  to  what  he  might  bring  to  them. 

The  meal  was  finished  in  unwonted  haste,  and  before 
Belle  could  think  of  what  she  was  to  do,  the  children  had 
discovered  their  hats  and  outer  garments,  and  were  ready 
before  she  had  put  on  her  hat. 

The  omnibus  soon  conveyed  them  to  Broadway,  and  they 
23 


354:    THBEB  PEE  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

left  it  at  Fourth  street,  intending  to  walk  down  to  the 
lower  end  of  the  city,  and  examine  the  windows  as  they 
went  along,  returning  by  the  omnibus  as  it  came  up  again. 

Robert  and  Ida  were  as  perfectly  happy  as  even  children 
could  be,  as  hand  in  hand  they  ran  on  ahead  of  their 
parents.  Robert  and  his  wife  were  happy  too,  but  there 
was  more  sobriety  in  their  enjoyment,  and  in  fact  the  minds 
of  both  were  running  back  to  past  memories,  and  a  shadow 
crossed  the  bright  sun  which  shone  over  them  now. 

"  Do  you  remember  that  Christmas  present  you  made  me 
three  years  ago,  Robert?"  .said  his  wife,  leaning  more 
heavily  on  his  arm,  and  gazing  affectionately  in  his  face. 

"  I  gave  you  a  great  many,  Belle,"  he  said,  with  a  smile, 
and  really  not  recalling  the  particular  present  to  which  she 
alluded. 

"  That  piano,"  said  Belle,  with  something  very  like  a 
sigh — not,  however,  for  the  piano,  but  an  involuntary 
twinge  of  regret  for  past  follies  and  extravagance. 

"  Oh  yes,  I  remember  how  you  coaxed  till  you  got  it  out 
of  me." 

"  That  piano,  Robert,  was  the  beginning  of  all  our  real 
troubles,"  said  Belle,  looking  into  his  face  with  an  arch 
expression  which  he  could  not  well  interpret. 

"I  am  sure,  I  can't  see  how  you  make  that  out,"  re 
plied  Robert. 

"  I  found  out  what  could  be  done  by  coaxing,  that  day, 
and  I  led  you  into  half  of  your  follies." 

"  And  I  went  voluntarily  into  the  other  half,  so  we  are 


CHRISTMAS     AND     A     SURPRISE.          355 

exactly  even  ;  but  you  would  not  mar  the  pleasure  of  this 
evening  by  speaking  of  those  times.  I  am  more  happy 
now  than  I  was  the  day  I  bought  that  house,  and  I  remem 
ber  thinking  then  when  the  deed  was  delivered  to  me,  that 
nothing  on  earth  could  have  added  to  my  happiness.  But 
I  made  a  great  mistake,"  and  Robert  too,  sighed. 

At  this  moment,  the  children  stopped  in  front  of  a  large 
window  which  was  fairly  overflowing  with  toys  and  nick- 
nacks,  and  feasted  their  delighted  eyes  upon  the  countless 
attractions  which  it  contained. 

Robert  and  Belle,  who  had  come  out  as  much  on  account 
of  the  children  as  for  their  own  pleasure,  also  stepped  up  to 
the  window  into  which  they  were  gazing  with  longing  eyes, 
and  merely  keeping  an  eye  upon  the  children,  pursued  the 
conversation  which  had  been  partially  interrupted  by  the 
exclamations  of  the  delighted  Robert  and  Ida,  as  they 
viewed  this  fairy  palace,  for  such  it  appeared  to  their  aston 
ished  vision.  / 

"  Yes,  I  am  more  truly  happy,  now,"  continued  Robert, 
'  than  I  have  ever  been.  I  have  but  one  single  care  or 
thought  upon  my  mind,  and  if  I  could  but  hope  to  be 
relieved  from  that,  I  don't  think  I  would  ask  any  other 
blessing.  I  have  now  health,  a  comfortable  situation, 
enough  for  all  our  wants,  a  nice  little  wife,  and  sweet  chil 
dren  ;  and  if  a  man  possessing  those  can't  be  happy,  he 
don't  deserve  anything  at  all." 

"  And  what  is  lacking,  Robert  ?  I  am  sure,  I  can't 
imagine — your  old  business  ?" 


;«56    THREE  PER  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

"  Ah",  that's  it,"  said  Kobert,  interrupting  his  wife.  "  It 
is  the  old  business.  No,  Belle,  I  have  but  one  wish  now 
ungratified.  I  wish  from  my  heart,  I  may  be  spared  to  show 
Uncle  George  how  much  I  appreciate  his  kindness,  and  how 
bitterly  I  regret  my  past  folly." 

"  Amen,  with  all  my  heart,"  said  Belle,  with4  great 
earnestness.  I  can  readily  imagine  how  you  must  feel. 
Dear,  good  old  soul." 

"  Yes,  he  was  a  dear  good  old  soul,  indeed,"  echoed  her 
husband,  half  musingly.  "  How  singular  it  is,  Belle,"  he 
continued  in  his  natural  tone,  "that  I  should  have  mis 
taken  him  so  much.  I  always  took  him  for  a  cold,  selfish, 
unfeeling  man,  who  had  no  heart  or  sympathy  for  any  one. 
But  if  he  only  knew  how  my  heart  yearns  towards  him  ; 
how  truly,  warmly,  devotedly  grateful  I  am  for  his  bound 
less  kindness,  I  think  he  would  feel  better  himself.  I  dare 
say,  he  thinks  me  what  I  seemed  to  be,  though  God  knows 
how  changed  I  am.  Why,  Belle,  I  remember  on  the  last 
night  he  was  at  our  house — I  am  sure  I  can  never  forget 
it — he  told  me,  when  I  was  saying  how  bitterly  I  repented, 
that  my  repentance  was  only  joy  that  I  had  escaped  the 
punishment  I  so  richly  deserved." 

"  That  was  hard  of  him,  Robert." 

"No,  Belle,  it  was  perfectly  true  then,  though  at  the 
tune  I  did  not  know  it  myself,  and  I  will  tell  you  why  it 
was  true.  That  very  night,  after  you  had  gone  to  bed,  I 
actually  began  to  calculate  how  much  longer  I  could  hold 
out,  now  that  his  generous  kindness  had  relieved  me  of  such 


CHRISTMAS     AND      A     SUEPEISE.          357 

a  terrible  load.  That  was  downright  infamy,  but  I  hardly 
think  I  was  in  my  right  mind,  then.  Thank  God,  I  did  not 
stay  long  in  that  mind.  The  next  day  ended  that  matter, 
and  I  believe,  if  I  know  what  repentance  is,  I  have  never 
ceased  to  feel  it  since.  God  bless  the  dear  old  man,  if  he 
could  only  know  how  I  feel,  I  am  sure  he  would  be  happy, 
and  I  should  feel  much  better  than  I  ever  expect  to  feel." 

"  I  can  feel  for  you,  Robert,"  said  his  wife,  affectionately, 
"  and  I  wish  I  could  help  you,  but  I  can't." 

"  Just  think,  BeMe,"  said  Robert,  pointing  to  his  children, 
whose  noses  were  close  pressed  against  the  window  of 
the  toy-shop,  in  front  of  which  they  had  been  standing  whilst 
this  conversation  was  carried  on,  "just  think  what  would 
have  become  of  those  children,  if  it  had  not  been  for  uncle 
George's  kindness,  and  what  would  have  been  my  lot  I"  and 
he  shuddered  as  he  spoke. 

"  I  do  think  of  it  often,  Robert,"  said  his  wife,  her  eyes 
moistening  with  tears,  as  she  spoke  ;  "I  do  think  of  it, 
and  every  night  of  their  lives,  those  children,  after  they 
have  said  their  prayers,  say  God  bless  father  and  mother, 
and  God  bless  good  Uncle  George.  But  come,  dear,  we 
must  not  talk  so  now  or  we  shall  forget  that  we  came  out 
to  enjoy  ourselves.  I  dare  say  it  will  all  come  out  right, 
at  last." 

"  I  hope  so  with  all  my  heart  and  soul,"  added  Robert, 
with  deep  earnestness,  "  and  if  I  am  spared  a  few  years  in 
health,  I  will  prove  that  I  was  not  so  unworthy  of  Uncle 
George's  kindness,  as  I  know  he  thinks  me.  Come,  little 


358    THKEE  PEE  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

folks,  move  on  ;  you  have  seen  everything  there  over  and 
over  again,"  he  said  to  the  children,  who,  with  exclama 
tions  of  delight,  were  moving  about  in  front  of  the  window, 
finding  something  new,  something  wonderful  at  every 
glance. 

Robert  and  Belle  suffered  themselves  to  be  dragged 
about  by  their  delighted  children  until  after  ten  o'clock, 
when  they  were  reluctantly  compelled  to  forego  further 
pleasure,  and  turned  to  go  home  ;  though  not  without 
casting  many  wistful  glances  behind  them,  for  they  felt 
instinctively  that  there  were  a  great  many  windows  which 
had  not  yet  been  examined. 

It  was  near  eleven  o'clock  when  they  reached  home, 
and  when  they  ascended  to  their  little  parlor,  which  was 
not  now  lighted,  for  they  were  too  economical  to  waste  oil 
when  there  was  no  one  at  home,  Eobert  started  towards 
the  mantle-piece  to  procure  a  match,  leaving  Belle  and  the 
children  standing  in  the  door-way. 

The  lamp  was  soon  lighted,  and  the  children  hastily 
entering  the  room,  began  to  throw  off  their  hats  and  furs, 
chattering  and  striving  to  recall  to  each  other  a  tithe  of 
the  wonderful  things  they  had  seen  that  night. 

Robert  watched  their  smiling  happy  faces  and  glistening 
eyes,  as  they  talked  away,  at  the  same  time  untying  strings, 
and  throwing  hats,  coats,  shawls,  and  furs  into  a  promis 
cuous  heap  upon  the  sofa. 

Belle,  who  had  taken  a  light  and  gone  into  the  bed 
room,  immediately  returned,  and  with  looks  of  pleasure  and 


CHRISTMAS      AND     A     SURPRISE.         359 

surprise  wonderfully  blended,  beckoned  Kobert,  who  fol 
lowed  her  into  the  room  which  she  had  just  left. 

"  Robert,  dear,"  she  said,  pointing  to  the  bed  and  chairs, 
'  I  am  afraid  you  have  been  too  extravagant.  I  know  it  is 
a  very  pleasant  surprise,  but  one  quarter  of  these  would 
have  done  just  as  well." 

But  Robert  had  no  word  to  say  in  reply.  He  gazed 
around  the  room  with  a  bewildered  look.  The  bed  and  chairs 
and  table  were  covered  with  parcels  whose  contents  were  as 
great  a  mystery  to  him  as  they  were  to  his  wife,  for  he  had 
no  agency  in  sending  them.  Such  a  profusion  of  parcels 
was  enough  to  bewilder  him,  and  Belle,  who  was  watching 
him  closely,  knew  not  what  to  make  of  his  surprised  air. 

41  Why,  Belle  !  Why,  my  dear,  you  saw  everything  I 
sent  home.  You  put  them  on  the  top  shelf  in  the  bad' 
room  pantry.  There  must  be  some  mistake  here,"  and  hi 
approached  the  bed,  which  was  strewn  with  packages 
"  No,  it  is  evidently  meant  for  us.  There  is  ray  name  anc 
number  on  every  package,"  he  said,  holding  up  one  parcel. 
"  Some  good  genius  has  been  at  work  here." 

"  I  tell  you  what,  Robert,  I  have  no  doubt  it  was  some 
of  Susan's  work — dear  good  soul  as  she  is." 

44  Not  a  bit  of  it.  Susan  is  a  good  dear  woman,  but  she 
has  never  been  foolish  enough  to  spend  her  husband's 
money  for  such  things.  No,  there  is  no  Susan  in  this  case. 
Santa  Glaus  himself  has  been  here,"  he  said,  laughingly, 
"  for  nobody  else  could  carry  such  a  load.  Belle,  go  down 
stairs,  and  find  out  when  these  things  came." 


360     THBEE  PEK  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

Belle  ran  down  stairs,  and  ran  np  again  in  a  moment  out 
of  breath. 

"  Why,  they  have  not  been  here  more  than  a  half  an 
hour.  Nobody  knows  who  brought  them,  only  that  a  car 
riage  drove  up  to  the  door,  and  the  driver  brought  the  par 
cels  in,  saying  they  were  for  Mr.  Arnold." 

"  Well,  put  the  little  folks  to  bed,  and  we  will  see  what 
Santa  Glaus  has  done  for  them.  Oh,  I  guess  now,  Belle," 
exclaimed  Eobert,  as  his  wife  was  about  leaving  the  room, 
and  she  half  paused  to  listen  to  his  explanation  of  the  mys 
tery,  "  it  is  Mr.  Hardman." 

"  Guess  again,  Master  Robert,"  she  said,  with  a  laugh. 
"  I  thought  you  of  all  men  knew  Mr.  Hardman  better.  Do 
you  suppose  he  would  send  such  things  to  our  children  in 
our  present  circumstances.  Not  he.  No,  it  might  possibly 
be  Mrs.  Jordan,  though  I  hardly  think  she  would  have  sent 
them  without  any  message.  No  matter — let  me  get  the 
children  to  bed  and  then  we  can  open  them — perhaps  there 
may  be  some  clue  to  the  secret  inside,"  and  while  she  was 
preparing  the  children  for  bed,  Robert  was  busily  engaged 
in  opening  the  parcels  thus  mysteriously  sent. 

There  were  presents  for  Robert  and  presents  for  Ida,  and 
what  struck  Belle  and  Robert  as  being  very  singular,  was 
the  fact  that  they  remembered  distinctly  hearing  the  chil 
dren,  as  they  were  looking  into  the  window  of  the  store  in 
front  of  which  they  had  been  conversing  of  the  past, 
admiring  and  wishing  especially  for  toys  of  this  very  kind. 

And  Belle  had  not  been  forgotten — there  were  dress  pat- 


CHRISTMAS     AND     A     SURPRISE.          361 

terns,  neat,  modest,  but  beautiful — gloves,  handkerchiefs 
and  useful  articles  of  almost  every  kind,  but  not  one  single 
article  of  ornament.  Belle  first  gave  way  to  exclamations 
of  delight,  as  treasure  after  treasure  marked  with  her  name 
was  unfolded  ;  then  she  commenced  to  wonder  anew  who 
could  be  their  unknown  friend,  and  she  wound  up  by  throw 
ing  herself  into  a  chair  and  giving  way  to  a  hearty  burst  of 
tears — but  they  were  tears  of  true  happiness,  for  she  felt 
that  they  had  indeed  some  friends  left  who  had  not  forgotten 
them  in  their  adversity. 

The  small  hours  of  the  morning  made  their  appearance 
before  Eobert  Arnold  and  his  wife  retired  to  rest,  and  even 
then  they  had  not  been  able  to  guess  out  the  mysterioug 
friend  to  whose  timely  and  most  unexpected  kindness  they 
owed  their  present  pleasure. 


362    THKEE  PEE  CENT.  A  MONTH. 


CHAPTEK   XXXVI. 


UNCLE  GEORGE  had  spent  nearly  the  entire  day  before 
Christmas  in  riding  about  from  store  to  store,  and  purchas 
ing  presents  for  those  to  whom  he  was  so  truly  attached — 
the  families  of  Mr.  Benson,  and  his  partner,  Henry  Scott. 

A  long  rest,  late  in  the  afternoon,  quite  restored  him, 
and  he  could  not  resist  the  longing  he  felt  to  go  out  in  the 
evening  for  the  purpose  of  watching  the  hundreds  of  smil 
ing,  delighted  children  whom  he  knew  would  throng  the 
streets  at  that  hour,  to  gaze  upon  the  bountiful  provisions 
made  for  their  pleasures  by  the  store -keepers.  Accordingly, 
after  tea,  muffling  himself  well  up,  he  sallied  forth,  and 
was  soon  enjoying  himself  to  his  heart's  content,  list 
ening  to  the  prattle  of  the  children,  as  they  flitted  from 
window  to  window. 

As  he  was  moving  slowly  along,  with  his  hands  behind 
him,  his  bluff,  honest  face  half  buried  in  his  muffler,  his  car 
caught  the  sound  of  a  familiar  voice  behind  him,  which 
caused  his  pulse  to  quicken,  and  he  nervously  turned  his 


A    MERRY    CHRISTMAS     FOR    EVERYBODY.    363 

head  half  aside,  as  if  to  assure  himself  that  he  had  heard 
aright. 

As  he  did  so,  two  happy  children  darted  past  him,  and 
ran,  half  frantic  with  delight,  to  a  large  bay-window  which 
was  filled  with  the  most  beautiful,  and  attractive  toys.  In 
another  moment,  the  parents  also  passed  him,  and  stood 
near  the  window,  engaged  in  conversation,  while  the  chil 
dren  were  devouring  its  contents  with  their  eyes. 

Uncle  George's  ear  had  not  deceived  him,  for  the  voice 
was  familiar,  and  belonged  to  one  who  had  been  very  dear 
to  him.  It  was  Robert  Arnold,  with  Belle  hanging  affec 
tionately  on  his  arm,  and  they  were  conversing,  as  the 
reader  has  heard  in  the  preceding  chapter,  as  they  passed 
"  Uncle  George." 

The  old  gentleman,  drawing  his  muffler  closer  about  his 
face,  posted  himself  near  to  the  window,  as  if  he,  too,  was 
admiring  its  contents,  and  while  his  eyes  were  seemingly 
drinking  in  pleasure  from  the  sight,  his  ears  were  devour 
ing  every  word  which  fell  from  his  discarded  nephew  and 
his  wife.  It  was  not,  perhaps,  perfectly  polite  in  Uncle 
George  thus  to  play  the  eaves-dropper,  but,  as  in  this  case, 
the  adage  that  "  listeners  seldom  hear  anything  good  of 
themselves  "  was  reversed,  perhaps  his  offence  was  at  least 
pardonable. 

Two  or  three  times  he  was  on  the  point  of  disclosing 
himself,  but  he  restrained  his  desire,  and  remained  an  un 
noticed,  but  most  attentive  hearer  of  every  word  they  had 
spoken. 


364          THREE      PEE     CENT.     A     MONTH-. 

When  they  moved  away,  calling  the  children  to  hurry 
on,  or  they  would  not  have  time  to  see  one  half  of  tha 
sights  if  they  stopped  so  long  at  each  window,  Uncle 
George  followed  them  with  longing,  loving  looks,  and  as 
they  were  lost  to  his  sight  amid  the  masses  which  thronged 
the  street,  he  pulled  down  his  muffler,  and  drawing  forth 
his  handkerchief,  gave  two  or  three  blasts  which  might 
have  been  mistaken  for  the  trumpet  of  Santa  Glaus.  The 
keen  air,  or  something  else,  must  have  affected  his  eyes,  for 
they  were  very  moist,  and  he  had  to  wipe  them  several 
times,  before  he  could  trust  himself  to  move  on. 

His  mind  was  made  up  on  the  instant.  A  few  steps 
below,  he  saw  an  empty  carriage  standing,  and  finding  it 
disengaged,  he  ordered  the  driver  to  draw  up  in  front  of 
the  store  near  which  he  had  but  now  been  standing,  and 
entering,  he  purchased  nearly  everything  which  he  could 
remember  having  heard  the  children  admire,  for  he  had 
watched  them  whilst  listening  to  the  words  which  fell  from 
the  lips  of  Robert  and  Belle. 

Nor  did  he  stop  there.  But,  reader,  there  is  no  use  in 
trying  to  tell  what  he  did.  His  heart  was  actually  over 
flowing  with  happiness,  and  it  was  Uncle  George  who  had 
strewn  the  bed  and  chairs  in  Robert  Arnold's  humble  home, 
with  the  parcels  which  had  excited  so  much  surprise  and 
wondering  curiosity,  and  he  returned  to  his  lonely  couch 
that  night  a  happier  man  than  he  had  been  for  many 
months. 

"  Merry  Christmas  !  Uncle  George,"  shouted  through  the 


A    MEKBT    CHICISTMAS    FOB    E  V  E  R  Y  B  O  D  Y  .  365 

keyhole  of  his  sleeping  apartment  on  the  following  morning, 
aroused  him  from  pleasant  dreams,  and  as  he  shouted  back 
to  the  little  voices  which  saluted  him,  he  sprang  from  his 
bed,  and  opening  his  door  admitted  them. 

A  renewed  merry  Christmas,  and  a  hearty,  loving  kiss 
from  each  saluted  him  as  they  entered,  and  he  succeeded  in 
driving  them  away  only  by  promising  to  be  dressed  and  in 
the  parlor  in  five  minutes  if  they  would  give  him  a  chance — 
and  he  kept  his  word. 

Santa  Clans  had  been  there  too,  and  the  old  gentleman 
was  almost  as  happy  in  being  a  witness  to  the  pleasure  of 
those  to  whom  he  was  so  warmly  attached,  as  they  were 
themselves,  and  he  was  compelled  again  and  again  to  praise 
and  admire  the  liberality  of  dear  old  Santa  Glaus. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Benson,  aroused  by  the  noise  which  the 
happy  trio  were  making  in  the  parlor,  hastened  down  stairs, 
and  the  greetings  of  the  day  were  cordially  interchanged. 

The  morning  meal  was  almost  untasted  by  the  children,  so 
eager  were  they  to  re-examine,  and  again  admire  the  tokens 
of  Santa  Claus's  good  will  for  them. 

"  Benson,  do  you  have  any  one  at  dinner  to-day  ?"  he 
inquired,  pushing  away  from  the  table. 

"  Oh  yes.  Scott  and  his  family,  of  course,"  said  Mrs. 
Benson,  answering  for  her  husband,  for  she  knew  that 
nothing  would  give  her  dear  old  friend  more  pleasure  than 
the  presence  of  that  family. 

"  You  have  not  asked  any  one  else  ?" 

"  No,  I  had  no  intention  of  doing  so." 


366     THREE   PER   CENT.   A   MONTH. 

"  You  can  find  room  for  one  or  two  moi'e  ?" 

"  Certainly,  Mr.  Arnold,  for  a  dozen  of  your  friends,"  said 
Mrs.  Benson. 

"  Then  may  I  bring  one  or  two  without  intruding  on  your 
pleasure  or  comfort  ?" 

"  What  a  question  to  ask,  Mr.  Arnold,"  said  Mrs.  Benson, 
half  reproachfully  "  May  you  bring  a  friend  to  your  own 
house  !" 

"  We  won't  quarrel  about  the  ownership  of  the  house, 
but  of  course  I  would  not  take  such  a  liberty  on  such  a  day 
without  at  least  consulting  you.  I  may  bring  two  or  three 
friends.  At  what  hour  do  we  dine  to-day  ?" 

"  We  shall  dine  at  four,  so  as  to  let  the  children  have  all 
the  evening  to  themselves." 

"  I  shall  be  home  by  that  tune.  You  may  as  well  make 
calculations  for  four — and  look  here,  Benson,  have  some 
thing  nice  for  the  little  folks  for  night.  I  love  to  see  them 
happy,  and  I  feel  particularly  happy  myself  to-day.  Mind, 
plenty  of  nice  things  for  little  folks.  I  am  going  to  church 
with  you,  and  shan't  be  home  again  until  I  come  to  dinner. 
But  if  I  am  not  home  in  time,  you  must  not  wait  for 
me." 

"Why,  surely,  Mr.  Arnold,  you  won't  stay  away  from 
home  on  such  a  day  ?"  said  Mrs.  Benson,  earnestly. 

"  Not  from  such  a  home  if  I  can  help  it,  I  promise  you. 
It  will  be  some  extraordinary  attraction  to  keep  me  away 
to-day,"  he  replied,  with  a  warmth  quite  equal  to  her  ear 
nestness  ;  and  rising,  he  followed  the  children  into  the  par- 


A.    fit  E  E  E  Y     CHRISTMAS    FOE    EVEEYBODT.    367 

lor,  where  a  pleasant  hour  was  passed  in  watching  their 
happy  countenances  as  they  spread  out  their  treasures 
before  him. 

After  the  services  at  the  church,  Mr.  Arnold  parted  from 
the  family,  promising  faithfully  to  be  at  home  hi  tune  for 
dinner,  whether  he  brought  his  friends  or  not. 

****** 

It  was  a  merry,  happy  Christmas  with  Eobert  Arnold 
and  his  family.  The  children  were  fairly  bewildered  with 
the  variety  and  beauty  of  the  presents  which  Santa  Glaus 
had  brought  to  them,  and  their  longing  desire  to  see  and 
thank  him  for  his  goodness  was  scarcely  grea'ter  than  was 
that  of  Eobert  and  Belle  to  see  and  thank  the  unknown 
friend  who  had  contributed  so  much  to  their  pleasure  and 
happiness  on  this  happy  day. 

They  also  went  to  church,  for  their  hearts  were  too  full 
of  gratitude  to  God  for  the  happiness  bestowed  upon  them, 
and  to  which  they  felt  they  had  forfeited  any  claims  by 
their  past  follies,  to  omit  testifying  it  publicly  on  a  day  wheu 
the  whole  Christian  world  was  pealing  with  anthems  of 
thanks  and  praises,  for  the  greatest  and  best  gift  bestowed 
on  sinful  man  by  a  merciful  God. 

And  their  thanks  came  from  earnest,  sincere  hearts — 
hearts  which  having  been  in  the  furnace  had  come  out  truer, 
purer,  and  more  refined  by  the  terrible  ordeal  to  which  they 
had  been  submitted. 

Cheerfully  and  gaily  they  walked  homeward,  the  children 
leading  the  way,  chattering  and  filled  with  anticipations  of 


368     THKEE  PER  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

the  pleasure  they  were  to  enjoy  with  their  presents,  while 
the  hearts  of  Robert  and  Belle  swelled  with  emotions  of  true 
happiness,  as  they  mutually  contrasted  their  position  and 
feelings  on  the  Christmas  last  past,  with  those  of  the  present 
day. 

"  Now,  then,  Eobert,  you  can  play  with  the  children, 
while  I  see  to  dinner,"  and  entering  her  little  bedroom,  she 
soon  re-appeared  disrobed  of  her  holiday  dress,  and  attired 
for  work,  with  her  long  check  apron  covering  all,  and  the 
sleeves  of  her  frock  tucked  up  above  the  elbow. 

Eobert  thought  he  had  never  seen  her  look  so  beautiful, 
as  with  a  bright,  cheerful  smile,  she  turned  from  him  to 
commence  those  household  duties  which  she  performed  so 
cheerfully,  and  as  he  thought  in  such  perfection. 

She  was  soon  deeply  engaged  in  the  mysterious  prepara 
tions  of  their  Christmas  dinner,  and  Robert,  finding  that  the 
children  were  so  much  engrossed  with  their  toys  as  not  to 
require  any  special  watching,  told  Belle  he  would  take  a 
stroll  in  the  pure  air,  unless  he  could  be  of  service  to  her. 

"  No,  I  want  no  hen  Bettys  about  me — go  along,  and 
enjoy  yourself.  Remember  we  dine  at  three,  and  we  don't 
wait  for  any  of  our  boarders  if  they  are  not  at  home  in 
proper  season." 

Robert  laughingly  took  up  his  hat,  and  was  soon  in  the 
avenue  which  ran  near  his  house,  mixed  up  with  the  masses 
who  were  moving  to  and  fro  with  smiling,  happy  faces, 
exchanging  kindly  greetings  hurriedly  as  they  passed  their 
friends  or  acquaintances. 


A.    MERRY    CHRISTMAS    FOR    EVEKYBODY.    3G9 

Unconsciously  be  strolled  down  to  Twenty-second  street, 
and  before  he  knew  it,  found  himself  in  front  of  his  own 
house,  but  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street,  and  .leaning 
against  the  railing,  his  thoughts  wandered  back  to  the 
scenes  which  had  transpired  there,  and  the  changes  which 
had  been  wrought  in  his  own  circumstances  and  position. 

He  had  no  sigh  of  regret  for  any  of  the  pleasures  or 
luxuries  he  had  ever  enjoyed  while  he  was  its  possessor,  but 
he  did  sigh  when  he  reflected  upon  the  folly  and  extrava 
gance  which  had  driven  him  thence  ;  and  a  bitter  sorrow 
filled  his  heart,  as  he  remembered  how  he  had  fallen 
beneath  the  temptations  of  pride  and  fashion,  and  the 
escape  he  had  made  from  well  merited  infamy  and  degrada 
tion. 

The  remembrance  of  his  uncle's  kindness  was  now  more 
precious  than  ever,  and  he  inwardly  renewed  the  vow  often 
before  made,  that  if  life  and  health  were  spared  to  him  ho. 
would  prove  the  sincerity  of  his  repentance  and  the  earnest 
ness  of  his  gratitude  to  his  kind,  generous  relative  and 

benefactor. 
24 


370          THBEE     P  E  B     CENT.     A     MONTH. 


CHAPTER    XXXVII. 

THE     FAST     MAN'S     CHRISTMAS. 

"You  have  been  gone  a  long  time,  Robert,"  said  his 
wife,  as  with  flushed  cheeks  she  approached  to  greet  him 
on  his  return,  for  she  had  been  standing  over  the  fire,  and 
the  heat  had  brought  a  bright  color  to  her  face.  "  You 
look  sad.  What  is  the  matter  ?  has  anything  happened  to 
you  ?" 

"  No,  dear,  only  I  happened  to  stroll  down  by  our  old 
house,  and  as  I  stood  opposite,  watching  it,  I  could  not  help 
going  over  the  past  in  my  mind.  Thank  God,  I  am  a  wiser 
and  I  hope,  a  better  man,  now." 

"  Thank  God,  you  are,  Robert,  and  I  too  thank  God, 
that  I  am  a  wiser,  if  not  a  better  woman.  I  wonder  who 
that  can  be  at  this  time  of  day.  Oh,  I  suppose  our 
neighbors  down  stairs  have  their  friends  to  dinner.  Every 
body  has  friends,  you  know,  on  such  a  day.  Susan  was  to 
have  conic  here  with  her  family,  but  it  seems  that  Benson 
was  ahead  of  me,  and  engaged  them  first." 

This  was  said  as  Belle's  ear  caught  the  sound  of  the  front 


THE     FAST    MAN'S     CHRISTMAS.  371 

door  bell  which  had  rung  while  she  was  speaking,  and  the 
sound  of  heavy  footsteps  slowly  ascending  the  stairs,  con 
vinced  her  that  she  had  been  wrong  in  her  supposition,  and 
that  the  visitor  must  be  for  them,  and  not  for  their  down 
stairs  neighbors. 

A  gentle  knock  at  the  door  was  answered  by  Robert,  who 
started  forward  and  opened  it,  while  Belle,  forgetting  her 
working-dress  and  her  tucked  up  sleeves,  stood  with  eager 
eyes  watching  and  wondering  who  on  earth  had  called  oa 
such  a  day. 

The  door  was  opened,  and  as  Robert  caught  sight  of  the 
person  standing  there,  he  started  back.  His  cheek  grew 
first  ashy  pale — then  he  crimsoned  to  the  very  temples,  and 
stepping  into  the  apartment,  Uncle  George  stood  revealed. 

The  old  gentleman  was  evidently  in  a  high  state  of 
excitement,  for  he  had  no  voice  to  utter  one  word  of  greet 
ing,  but  stood  there  for  an  instant  with  hands  outstretched, 
and  moistened  eyes,  while  Robert  and  Belle  gazed  upon  him 
with  looks  of  wonder  and  amazement. 

For  an  instant  they  maintained  this  position,  when 
Robert  starting  forward,  seized  both  of  his  uncle's  hands, 
and  looking  him  full  hi  the  face,  exclaimed,  "  Uncle 
George  ?" 

"  Yes,  Uncle  George,"  said  the  old  man,  the  tears  now 
raining  down  his  furrowed  cheeks,  and  Robert  know  that 
his  pardon  was  sealed.  Throwing  himself  upon  his  uncle's 
neck,  he  gave  way  to  tears  which  he  could  not  repress,  and 
for  a  few  moments  the  long  parted  friends  were  clasped  in 
each  other's  arms. 


372          THREE     PER     CENT.      A     MONTH. 

As  for  Belle,  she  was  at  first  too  much  astonished  to 
say — or  do — scarcely  to  think  anything,  but  at  the  words, 
"  Yes,  Uncle  George,"  she  comprehended  the  whole,  and 
sinking  into  a  chair  near  which  she  had  been  standing,  she 
joined  her  husband  and  his  uncle  in  tears  of  joy  and  happi 
ness. 

"  There,  Robert,"  said  his  uncle,  gently  pushing  him  from 
him,  and  gazing  upon  him  as  well  as  he  could  through  the 
tears  which  filled  his  eyes,  "  that  will  do.  It's  all  over 
now-*-don't  say  another  word.  Come  here,  little  woman, 
and  kiss  me,"  he  said  to  Belle,  and  rising,  she  wiped  her 
eyes,  and  approached  him. 

"  You  are  a  good  woman,  and  a  faithful  little  wife,  and 
I  love  you,"  said  Uncle  George,  clasping  her  to  his  heart, 
and  kissing  her  forehead.  "  Now  let  me  say  a  few  words, 
and  don't  either  of  you,  as  you  love  me,  ever  after  this,  utter 
one  word  which  can  recall  the  past. 

"  Robert — Belle,"  he  continued,  taking  a  hand  of  either 
as  he  spoke,  "  I  heard  every  word  you  uttered  last  night 
while  you  were  talking  of  me,  and  that  is  why  I  am  here. 
There — now — not  one  word.  Robert,  I  have  nothing  to 
forgive,  and  you  nothing  to  remember.  Belle,  I  repeat  you 
are  a  good  woman  and  a  faithful  wife,  and  I  love  you,  and 
there  let  it  end.  What  a  neat  little  place  you  have  got," 
said  Uncle  George,  suddenly  changing  the  subject,  and 
looking  around  with  evident  satisfaction.  "Why,  Belle, 
dear,  are  you  cook  ?" 

"Yes,  sir,  I  do  general  housework,"  she  said,  smiling 


THE    FAST    MA.N'8    CHRISTMAS.  373 

through  her  tears,  and  hastily  pulling  down  her  tucked  up 
sleeves. 

"  And  a  good  one  I  know  you  are  to  work.  Well,  little 
folks,"  he  continued,  turning  to  the  children,  who  had 
listened  silent  and  amazed  while  these  occurrences  were 
transpiring,  "  I  hope  Santa  Glaus  sent  you  something 
nice  ;"  and  he  looked  at  his  own  purchases  which  were 
strewed  over  the  hoor. 

"  And  was  it  you,  Uncle  George  ?"  said  Robert,  turning 
to  him,  and  pointing  to  the  treasures  scattered  over  the 
room,  "  Were  you  the  generous  " 

"  Yes,  I  was  Santa  Glaus  for  this  occasion.  But  really 
you  are  very  comfortable  here,  Robert,"  said  his  uncle.  » 

"  Yes  sir,  indeed  we  are,  and  I  owe  all  this  to  Belle. 
She  did  it  all — she  hired  the  house — she  furnished  it,  by 
selling  her  jewelry,  and  she  has  made  it  a  little  paradise. 
But,  Uncle  George,  you  will  dine  with  us,  now  you  are 
here  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  replied  Uncle  George,  looking 
about  the  room  with  an  expression  of  pleasure.  "  I  had  in 
tended  that  you  and  Belle  and  the  children  should  go  with" 
me." 

"  Oh,  no,  dear  Mr.  Arnold,"  said  Belle  entreatingly,  "  do 
stay  with  us  this  once.  It  will  make  us  all  so  very,  very 
happy." 

"Yes,  uncle,  add  to  other  favors  by  granting  this  one. 
No  one  could  give  you  a  more  hearty  welcome,"  urged 
Robert. 


374    THKEE  PEK  CENT.   A  MONTH. 
V 

"  Well,  have  your  own  way.  I  did  promise  partly, 
that  I  should  be  home  at  dinner,  but  they  can  get  along 
without  me,  and  we  can  all  go  around  in  the  evening.  So, 
Belle,  go  and  attend  to  your  cooking,"  and  he  glanced 
at  her  flashed  face  and  hands  red  with  work  and  the 
heat  of  the  fire.  "  I  ordered  a  carriage  to  be  here  at  half 
past  three  to  take  you  with  me,  but  I  can  send  it  away 
until  five  o'clock  ;  that  will  be  tune  enough  to  go  around. 
There,  go  along.  I  want  to  have  a  few  words  with 
Robert.  Go  along  and  play,  children,  I  want  to  talk  to 
father.  Sit  down,  Robert,"  and  as  Belle  left  the  room  to 
attend  to  the  culinary  department,  uncle  and  nephew  seated 
themselves  on  the  sofa,  and  Robert,  at  his  uncle's  request, 
gave  him  a  detailed  history  of  his  transactions  while  he  was 
in  business,  and  when  he  frankly  mentioned  the  enormous 
sums  he  had  paid  to  Mr.  Gripe,  in  order  to  sustain  his 
falling  credit,  and  to  enable  him  to  keep  up  his  extravagant 
mode  of  living,  Uncle  George  opened  his  eyes  very  wide, 
and  rubbed  his  nose  vehemently,  but  said  nothing. 

As  frankly  he  told  of  his  trials  and  struggles  since  his 
failure.  He  spoke  in  terms  of  the  warmest  love  and  eu 
logy  of  Belle  and  her  devotion,  of  the  efforts  she  had  put 
forth  to  keep  up  his  spirits,  and  to  encourage  him  to  hope, 
when  to  hope  seemed  but  folly. 

"And  she  has  been  working  at  embroidering,  besides 
attending  to  the  house  and  children  ?"  asked  Uncle  George, 
looking  in  the  direction  of  the  kitchen,  as  if  wishing  that 
Belle  would  come  out,  so  that  he  might  look  again  upou 


THE    FAST    MAN'S     CHRISTMAS.  375 

one  with  whose  good  qualities  he  had  so  recently  become 
acquainted. 

"Yes,  she  earns  regularly  from  five  to  seven  dollars  a 
week,  and  if  it  had  not  been  for  her,  I  should  have  found 
it  hard  work  to  save  anything.  Five  hundred  a  year  was 
all  I  got  at  first,  and  it  was  pretty  hard  for  me,  but  when 
I  found  I  must  live  on  it,  I  did,  and  I  think  I  may  safely 
say,  I  never  was  happier  hi  my  life.  And,  Uncle  George," 
added  Robert,  proudly,  "  I  have  learned  lessons  which  can 
never  be  forgotten.  I  have  learned  to  save  money." 

"  You  can  save,  eh,"  said  his  uncle  smiling,  "  then  there 
is  some  hope  of  you  ;  any  man  can  earn  money,  but  give 
me  the  man  who  knows  how  to  save." 

"  Yes,  and  I  have  mine  to  show  for  it.  Why,  Uncle 
George,  I  never  was  prouder  or  happier  in  my  life  than 
when  I  could  count  my  first  hundred  dollars.  It  seemed 
a  small  fortune  to  me,  and  I  remember  that  my  first 
thought,  as  I  counted  it  over,  was,  how  happy  I  should  be 
if  I  could  only  save  enough  to  pay " 

"  There,  that  will  do,  Eobert,  that  is  forbidden  ground," 
interrupted  his  uncle.  "  Here  comes  Belle.  Go,  help  her 
out  with  the  table  ;"  he  said,  as  Belle  entered  from  the 
kitchen  with  her  sleeves  again  rolled  up,  and  her  eyes 
sparkling  with  pleasure.  Uncle  George  watched  her  as  she 
flitted  about  the  table  setting  the  plates,  and  keeping  up 
the  while  a  running  fire  of  pleasant  remarks  to  her  husbana 
and  his  uncle. 

Dinner  was  soon  ready   and  served,   and,   perhaps,  it 


would  have  been  difficult  to  find  in  all  New  York  a 
happier  family  than  the  one  seated  at  that  humble  table. 

Uncle  George  found  everything  delightful.  He  praised 
the  turkey  and  the  cook,  and  as  for  the  dessert,  he  had 
never  before  eaten  anything  like  it.  Really  he  would  speak 
to  Mrs.  Benson,  and  see  if  he  could  not  get  her  to  engage 
Belle's  services  in  the  kitchen. 

Merrily,  cheerfully,  and  happily  the  meal  passed.  No 
word  was  spoken  of  the  past — no  allusion  even  made  to  it, 
and  the  hearts  of  Robert  and  his  wife  swelled  with  grati 
tude  as  they  looked  at  the  dear,  kind  old  man  who  had 
wrought  so  much  happiness. 

The  hours  flew  by,  and  as  the  clock  struck  five,  the 
carriage  drove  up  to  the  door. 

"  Now,  Belle,  hurry  and  get  the  little  folks  ready. 
Benson  will  be  woefully  disappointed  at  my  absence  from 
dinner,  and  I  must  make  it  up  by  getting  back  as  early  as 
possible.  Come,  cook,  hurry  !"  and  as  Belle  passed  him 
on  her  way  to  her  own  room,  he  drew  her  towards  him 
aud  imprinted  a  kiss  upon  either  cheek,  with  an  earnestness 
which  caused  the  tears  to  start  from  her  eyes,  but  they 
were  tears  of  happiness,  and  as  he  followed  her  with  his 
eyes  until  the  door  closed  upon  her,  involuntarily  he  raised 
his  handkerchief  to  his  own  eyes — perhaps  from  sympathy 
with  her. 


A     FAMILY     MEETING.  377 


CHAPTER  XXXVItl. 

A    FAMILY   MEETING. 

MR.  AND  MRS.  BENSON,  with  Scott  and  his  wife,  were 
seated  around  the  glowing  fire  in  the  parlor  of  Mr.  Benson's 
house.  They  had  passed  the  hours  since  their  return  from 
church  in  social  conversation,  interrupted  very  frequently 
by  remarks  expressive  of  their  wonder  at  the  absence  of 
"  Uncle  George." 

"  I  declare  it  is  too  bad  1"  said  Mrs.  Benson,  with  an  air 
of  vexation.  "  He  has  no  right  to  be  absent  on  such  a 
day."  , 

"  Really,  Mary,"  said  her  husband,  laughing,  "  I  think 
you  are  as  bad  as  Nelly.  She  won't  allow  him  to  go  out 
without  telling  her  where  he  is  going,  what  he  is  going  to 
do,  and  when  he  is  coming  back." 

"  I  do  wonder,  said  Susan,  where  he  will  dine.  It  is  four 
now,  and  he  won't  be  home,  I  am  sure." 

"  He's  doing  some  good,  I'll  engage,"  said  Mrs.  Benson, 
with  an  air  of  half-vexation,  rising  and  ringing  the  bell,  and 
when  the  servant  appeared,  directing  her  to  serve  the  din- 


878     THREE  PER  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

ner  at  once,  as  it  was  r,ast  the  time,  and  Mr.  Arnold  evi 
dently  would  not  become. 

He  did  not  come,  as  the  reader  is  aware,  and  the  Christ 
mas  meal  was  eaten  without  his  presence,  much  to  the  sor 
row  of  Nelly,  whose  place  was  by  his  side,  and  who  took  a 
great  deal  of  time  which  ought  to  have  been  devoted  to  eat 
ing,  in  entering  complaints  of  Uncle  George,  and  uttering 
threats  of  what  she  would  do  when  he  returned. 

The  meal  finished,  the  sliding  doors  leading  to  the  dining 
room  were  drawn,  and  the  families  returned  to  the  parlors  to 
resume  their  wonder  where  Mr.  Arnold  could  have  gone. 

The  children  were  deeply  engaged  in  the  back  parlor  with 
their  toys  and  playthings,  the  gifts  of  good  "Santa  Glaus," 
when  the  sound  of  carriage  wheels  stopping  in  front  of  the 
house,  caused  a  cessation  of  conversation  on  the  part  of  the 
elders,  while  the  children  dropped  their  playthings  and  ran 
to  the  windows,  eager  to  greet  "  Uncle  George,'-'  for  they 
felt  that  it  must  be  himself. 

"  There  he  is  !"  exclaimed  the  delighted  Nelly,  who  had 
eyes  for  no  one  else,  and  she  fairly  flew  to  the  door  in  her 
anxiety  to  greet  her  friend  and  playfellow. 

As  soon  as  the  children  had  announced  that  "  Uncle 
George  "  had  arrived,  the  whole  family  felt  at  liberty  to  go 
to  the  windows  to  look  at  his  welcome  face,  and  first  of  all 
was  Susan  Scott. 

At  the  moment  she  reached  the  window,  Uncle  George 
was  in  the  act  of  handing  Belle  from  the  carriage,  and  at 
the  first  glimpse  of  her,  Susan  could  not  conceal  her  delight, 


A     FAMILY     MEETING.  379 

and  with  a  slight  scream  which  might  have  been  variously 
interpreted,  she  sprang  to  the  parlor  door,  and  in  a  moment 
was  in  the  hall  awaiting  the  opening  of  the  front  door. 

Belle's  eyes  first  lighted  on  her,  and  dropping  the  arm  of 
Uncle  George,  the  sisters  were  clasped  in  a  warm  embrace, 
before  her  companion  could  well  divine  what  had  become  of 
his  charge. 

"  Dear  Belle,"  and  "  dear  Susan,"  were  rapidly  inter 
changed,  mingled  with  kisses  and  tears  ;  and  with  an  arm 
around  each  other's  waist  they  entered  the  parlor,  closely 
followed  by  Uncle  George,  whose  handkerchief  was  in 
constant  requisition,  he  had  such  a  cold  in  his  head. 

Eobert  and  the  children  brought  up  the  rear,  and  as  they 
entered  the  parlor  and  the  door  was  closed,  Uncle  George, 
turning  to  the  family,  who  had  arisen  at  the  entrance  of 
Belle  and  Susan,  and  who  knew  not  what  to  make  of  the 
scene,  said  simply,  "  My  nephew,"  but  it  was  enough.  The 
whole  was  at  once  comprehended,  and  Mr.  Benson  advancing, 
extended  his  hand,  and  grasped  that  of  Robert  Arnold 
warmly,  saying  only,  "  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you." 

As  for  the  females,  their  ready  perception  caught  the 
whole  on  the  instant,  and  before  Belle  knew  where  she  was, 
she  found  herself  in  the  back  parlor,  with  Mrs.  Scott  and 
Mrs.  Benson,  whose  endearing  epithets  could  scarcely  bring 
her  to  a  realization  of  her  position. 

Mrs  Benson  untied  her  hat,  Susan  unpinned  her  shawl, 
and  the  latter,  as  she  drew  the  garment  froi*  her  shoulders, 
turned  and  imprinted  a  warm  kiss  of  love  upon  her  fore 
head. 


380          THEEE     PER     CENT.     A     MONTH. 

Belle  gazed  silently  and  amazedly  at  them  for  an  instant, 
then  sulking  upon  a  sofa  she  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands,  and  gave  way  to  a  burst  of  tears  which  could  no 
longer  be  repressed.  Her  heart  was  actually  overflowing 
with  happiness,  and  the  only  outlet  was  through  her  eyes. 

"  Come,  baby,"  said  Susan,  wiping  her  own  eyes,  and 
seizing  her  by  one  arm,  while  Mrs.  Benson  took  the  other, 
"  wipe  your  eyes  and  behave  yourself  before  company,"  and 
thus  they  led  her  into  the  front  parlor.  In  the  front  room 
a  scene  not  very  different  was  being  enacted. 

As  soon  as  Mr.  Benson  and  Scott  had  exchanged  greet 
ings  with  Robert  Arnold,  he  went  to  a  sofa,  and  seating  him 
self,  looked  about  as  if  unable  to  realize  the  circumstances 
which  surrounded  him.  There  stood  Uncle  George  with 
his  hand  behind  him,  gazing  affectionately  upon  him.  On 
either  hand  were  comparative  strangers,  but  the  warmth  of 
their  welcome  had  led  him  to  think  they  would  not  long  be 
so.  His  wife  was  in  the  other  room  with  Mrs.  Benson  and 
Susan,  and  his  children  had  already  found  friends.  He 
knew  not  what  to  make  of  it,  but  he  was  very  happy, 
though  he  could  not  tell  exactly  why,  and  as  he  looked  from 
his  uncle  to  his  friends,  and  turned  from  one  to  the  other, 
as  if  asking  a  solution  to  the  enigma  which  was  puzzling 
him,  his  eyes  began  to  moisten,  and  what  he  might  have 
done  or  said  it  would  be  difficult  to  conjecture,  had  he  not 
been  aroused  by  his  uncle,  who  advanced  towards  him, 
blowing  his  noie  with  unusual  violence,  and  said  : 

"  Come,  young  man,  you  are  making  an  old  fool  of 
me.  I'll  thank  yon  to  remember  that  you  are  in  company 


A     FAMILY     MEETING.  381 

now.  Benson, 'shake  Mm  up,  and  see  if  you  can't  teach 
him  to  behave  himself.  Ah  Belle,"  he  said,  turning  to  his 
niece  who  was  advancing,  supported  on  either  hand  by 
Mrs.  Benson  and  Susan,  "  see  how  Robert  behaves  !  Can't 
you  teach  him  better  manners  ?" 

Belle  could  only  shake  her  head,  and  look  appealingly 
at  Uncle  George.  She  had  no  voice  for  words,  but  Uncle 
George  had,  and  in  tones  which  showed  the  terrible  strug 
gle  within,  he  said,  "  this  is  all  confounded  nonsense." 

"  Mrs.  Benson — Susan — this  is  my  nephew — my  niece, 
Belle,"  said  Uncle  George,  pointing  to  each  as  he  spoke, 
quite  forgetful  that  he  had  already  performed  the  very 
unnecessary  ceremony  of  an  introduction,  and  as  the  ladies 
addressed  swept"  to  the  very  floor  with  the  profundity  of  the 
courtesy  with  which  they  acknowledged  the  introduction, 
their  husbands  laughed  outright. 

"  I  should  like  to  know  what  you  are  laughing  at  ?"  said 
Uncle  George,  quite  innocently. 

"  Mrs.  Scott,"  said  Mrs.  Benson,  with  assumed  dignity, 
"  permit  me  to  present  to  you  Uncle  George's  niece,  Mrs. 
Arnold,"  and  she  led  Belle  towards  Susan  ;  but  with  one 
impulse  they  sprang  forward,  and  in  an  instant  were  clasped 
in  each  others  arms. 

"  There,  now  you  know  each  other,"  said  Uncle  George. 
"  How  about  dinner  ?  I  suppose,  of  course,  you  waited  for 
me." 

"  Of  course  we  did  not,  sir,"  replied  Mrs.  Benson,  very 
demurely.  "  If  members  of  my  family  cannot  come  home  iu 
seasonable  hours,  they  must  take  what  they  can  get." 


382    THREE  PEK  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

"  Well,  I  must  do  without,  I  suppose.  But,  Mary,  I  have 
found  a  cook  for  you.  You  know  you  have  found  a  great 
many  faults  lately,  with  Jane,"  and  he  looked  mischievously 
at  Belle,  whose  color  was  rising.  "  I  will  put  Belle  against 
any  one  in  this  house." 

"  No,  thank  you,  said  Mrs.  Benson,  laughing,  "  I  am 
afraid  you  would  be  in  the  kitchen  all  the  tune  if  I  had  a 
cook  of  your  choosing,  and  everything  might  be  spoiled. 
I  shall  keep  Jane  yet  awhile.  So,  Belle,  you  must  look  out 
for  another  place." 

"  Never  mind  them,  Belle,"  he  said,  soothingly.  "  They 
don't  know  much.  Come  here  and  sit  down  by  me,"  and 
seating  himself  on  the  sofa  by  the  side  of  Robert,  he  drew 
Belle  towards  him,  and  encircling  her  with  one  arm,  ex 
tended  the  other  hand  to  his  nephew,  who  pressed  it  with 
affectionate  warmth. 

"  You  are  not  so  handsome  as  Susan,"  said  the  happy 
old  man,  gazing  affectionately  in  the  face  of  his  niece,  now 
fairly  glowing  with  happiness,  and  turning  thence  to  Susan, 
who  stood  'looking  at  them  with  eyes  glistening  with 
pleasure. 

"  I  am  not  half  so  good,  Mr.  Arnold,"  she  said,  "  and 
you  know  '  handsome  is  who  handsome  does.'  " 

"  Susan  Scott,  what  is  my  name  ?"  he  said  to  Susan. 

"  Uncle  George,"  she  replied,  catching  at  his  purpose. 

"  Mary  Benson,  what  is  my  name  ?" 

"  Uncle  George,  when  you  behave  yourself,"  she  replied, 
with  a  laugh. 

''  Belle,  I'll  thank  you  to  remember  that.    Yon  may  '  Mis- 


A     FAMILY     MEETING.  383 

ter*  this  fellow  as  much  as  you  choose,"  and  he  shook 
Robert's  hand,  "  but  I'm  Uncle  George,  and  I  don't  like  to 
be  called  out  of  my  name.  You  understand  ?"  and  Uncle 
George  drew  her  to  him  with  a  force  which  under  ordinary 
circumstances  might  have  endangered  her  ribs,  but  which 
did  not  hurt  her  at  all  now,  and  he  wound  up  by  a  tre 
mendous  kiss,  which  might  have  been  heard  in  the  next 
house) 

"  Uncle  George  !  Uncle  George  1"  screamed  Nelly,  from 
the  further  end  of  the  back  parlor,  where  the  whole  six 
were  on  their  hands  and  knees,  deep  in  the  mysteries  of 
toys,  "  Come  here,  quick  1  I've  got  something  to  show 
you." 

"  Nelly,  I  am  ashamed  of  you.  Bring  it  here  yourself. 
How  dare  you  ask  Uncle  George  to  come  to  you  ?" 

But  neither  Nelly  nor  Uncle  George  heeded  the  reproof, 
and  in  another  moment  he  too  was  on  the  floor,  listening  to 
their  expressions  of  admiration  and  delight  as  they  exhibited 
their  treasures  to  him. 

While  he  was  engaged  with  the  little  folks,  their  parents 
were  engaged  in  animated,  friendly  conversation,  and  it 
would  be  hard  to  find  a  happier  group  than  was  gathered 
in  that  parlor. 

Mrs.  Benson  had  not  forgotten  the  "  nice  things  "  for  the 
evening,  and  thanks  to  Uncle  George,  the  children  had 
abundant  reasons  to  remember  the  occasion,  for  whenever 
their  parents'  backs  were  turned,  he  so  crammed  them  with 
sweets,  it  required  full  three  days  for  them  to  recover  from 


384:    THEEE  PEE  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

the   consequences   of  his   well-meant,   but  injurious  indul 
gence. 

The  evening  was  passed,  as  the  reader  may  imagine, 
happily,  and  when  the  carriage  was  announced  which  was 
to  convey  Robert  and  his  family  to  their  home,  Uncle 
George  seemed  so  loth  to  part  with  them,  that  Mrs.  Benson, 
out  of  pure  compassion  for  him,  as  she  declared,  sent  it 
away  with  directions  to  return  in  the  morning,  and  insisted 
on  retaining  them  for  the  night,  and  Uncle  George  thanked 
her  with  a  look  which  spoke  more  eloquently  than  worda. 


DBAWING     TO     A     CLOSE.  385 


CHAPTER    XXXIX. 

DRAWING     TO     A     CLOSE. 

EARLY  in  the  month  of  January,  Robert  Arnold  was 
seated  in  the  store  of  Ames  &  Johnson,  when  he  was  more 
surprised  than  pleased  by  a  visit  from  his  old  friend,  Gripe. 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  said  the  honest  broker,  advancing 
with  extended  hand,  "  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you.  I  had  lost 
the  run  of  you  until  I  happened  to  take  up  the  Courier  this 
morning,  and  I  saw,  I  need  not  say  with  how  much  pleasure, 
that  you  had  been  taken  in  partnership.  I  assure  you,  I  am 
very  glad,"  he  continued,  shaking  Robert's  hand  very 
warmly  with  both  his  own. 

"  Yes,  Gripe,  I  am  on  my  feet  again,  you  see." 

"  Of  course,  you  won't  forget  your  old  "riend.  You 
know,  Arnold,  I  never  disappointed  you.  By  the  way,  can 
I  do  anything  for  you  now  ?  Money  is  rather  easy." 

"  Not  just  now,"  replied  Robert,  with  a  quiet  smile,  for 
he  knew  his  man.  "  Not  just  now.  Beside?  Gripe,  I  have 

found  a  broker  who  says  he  can  get  all  I  want  at  two  and  a 
25 


386     THREE  PEB  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

half,  and  you  hardly  ever  let  me  off  less  than  three  per 
cent,  a  month." 

"  Two  and  a  half  per  cent.,"  exclamed  Gripe,  his  face 
actually  crimsoning  with  virtuous,  honest  indignation  at  the 
bare  mention  of  such  a  rate,  "  why,  the  man  must  be  an 
inborn  rogue,  to  ask  such  rates  as  money  is  now.  Ah,  I 
see  you  have  not  been  in  the  street,  lately,  Arnold." 

"  I  have  not,  indeed,  Gripe,"  said  Arnold,  very  mean 
ingly. 

"  Money  is  easy  now,  and  I  would  not  think  of  paying 
over  one  and  a  half.  Why,  that  man's  a  rascal.  Mind  my 
words,  Arnold,  and  don't  you  trust  him.  Two  and  a  half, 
indeed  !  He  ought  to  be  drummed  out  of  the  street  for  such 
extortion  ;'7  and  at  the  very  recollection,  Mr.  Gripe  was  so 
much  excited  he  could  hardly  find  vent  for  his  indigna 
tion 

"  Well,  Gripe,"  said  Robert,  rather  maliciously,  "  when 
I'm  in  a  tight  spot,  I'll  be  sure  to  find  you  out." 

"  Thank  you,  Arnold.  You'll  always  find  me  prompt. 
But  wasn't  I  right  about  that  Moonshine  stock  ?"  and 
Gripe  made  a  playful  motion  of  poking  Robert  in  the 
ribs. 

"  Never  mind  that  now,"  said  Arnold,  a  shade  crossing 
his  face.  "  That's  passed.  When  I  have  occasion,  you 
may  rely  upon  it,  I  shall  not  forget  you  ;"  and  with  this 
very  equivocal  expression,  he  politely  bowed  the  broker  out 
of  his  office. 

"  Well,  Robert,"  said  a  familiar  and  dearly  remembered 


DRAWING     TO      A     CLOSE.  387 

voice,  as  he  sat  musing  upon  the  past,  which  had  been 

called  up  by  the  presence  of  Mr.  Gripe  ;  "  at  it  again  ?   That's 

right,  never  give  up  the  ship." 

"Aye,  Mr.  Hardman,"  said  Kobert,  advancing  and  seizing 

his  friend's  hand,  "  but  the  ship  gave  me  up  once.    She  sank 

under  me." 

"  You  carried  too  much  cargo  or  too  much  canvas,  then.* 
"  Not  exactly  either  one.    I  sowed  the  wind  and  reaped 

the  whirlwind,  and  it  caught  me  with  all  sail  set.    But 

I  was  not  quite  wrecked  as  you  see,  thanks  to  dear  old 

Uncle  George." 

"  I  thought  you  would  turn  up  right  one  of  these  days. 

No,  I  can't  say  exactly  say  I  thought  so,  but  I  hoped  you 

would,  and  I  am  glad  to  see  that  you  have." 
"  If  I  had  only  heeded  you  at  first,  Mr.  Hardman." 
"  You  would  not  have  known  as  much  as  you  do  now. 

No,  it's  all  for  the  best.    I  have  kept  the  run  of  you  ever 

since  your  failure." 

"  You  were  kind  to  think  of  me,  Mr.  Hardman." 

"  Oh  no.    I  didn't  like  to  have  it  said  that  any  one  in 

whom  I  had  ever  taken  any  interest  should  have  broken 

down  entirely.    But  somebody  else  has  kept  an  eye  on  you, 

also." 

"  What,  Uncle  George  ?    Do  you  mean  him  ?" 
"No  one  else,  that  I  remember,  thought  you  worth 

watching." 
"  God  bless  him  1    You  don't  know  how  much  I  owe  to 

that  dear  good  soul." 


388    THKEE  PEE  CENT.   A  MONTH. 

"Yes,  I  do.  Ten  thousand  three  hundred  dollars  and 
the  interest,  besides  the  five  thousand  he  advanced  yon  when 
you  first  set  sail." 

Robert  looked  steadily  at  his  friend  for  an  instant,  as  if  he 
would  read  his  very  soul ;  but  there  was  nothing  in  his 
expression  to  lead  to  the  belief  that  he  knew  all  of  his  obli 
gations  to  his  uncle,  and  he  therefore  kept  his  own  counsel. 

"  Yes,  he  has  had  his  eye  on  you  more  than  you  dreamed 
of.  You  remember  when  your  salary  was  increased  and 
your  concern  gave  you  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  as  a 
present." 

"  Of  course  I  do.  That  was  one  of  the  happiest  days  of 
my  life." 

"  That  was  your  uncle's  work.  He  got  me  to  manage 
that,  so  that  you  would  not  discover  his  agency  in  the  mat 
ter.  The  concern  were  told  how  to  act,  and  they  did  just 
as  he  wished.  Ah,  Robert,  you  have  a  friend  there  worth 
having." 

"And  worth  keeping,  too,"  said  Robert  warmly.  "  But 
what  a  mess  of  troubles  I  might  have  saved  if  I  had  only  lis 
tened  to  your  advice  at  first,  when  I  spoke  of  buying  that 
house.  Yes,  if  I  had  only  waited  the  half-hour  on  the  day 
I  bought  it,  who  knows  what  might  have  turned  up? 
Well,"  he  added,  with  a  sigh,  "  I  hope  it's  all  for  the  best." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  it  is.  You  have  laid  in  now  a  large 
stock  of  experience,  which  has  cost  you  a  great  deal.  Don't 
waste  it,  nor  forget  the  lessons  it  has  taught  you," 

"  Mr.  Hardman,  my  experience  has  been  so  dearly  bought. 


DRAWING     TO     A     CLOSE.  389 

I  can  never  forget,"  and  Eobert  spoke  with  unwonted  ear 
nestness.  "  I  would  not  live  the  three  years  of  my  life  over 
again,  as  I  did  in  that  house  in  Twenty-second  street,  for 
three  times  what  I  spent  there,  and  I  would  not  suffer  again 
what  I  have  suffered  from  my  own  folly  for  untold  wealth. 
No,  no,  wisdom  has  come  to  me  at  last,  and  thank  God  not 
too  late  but  that  I  may  profit  by  it." 

"  What  was  Gripe  after  just  now  ?"  I  saw  him  going 
out  as  I  came  in." 

"  Oh,  he  came  to  congratulate  me  that  I  had  got  on  my 
legs  again,  and  to  hope  that  I  would  not  forget  his  past  ser 
vices.  I  don't  think  there  is  much  danger  of  that.  The 
burnt  child  dreads  the  fire,  and  I  have  no  idea  of  ever  trying 
again  how  long  a  man  can  hold  out  who  borrows  at  three 
per  cent,  a  month." 


390    THREE  PER  CENT.  A  MONTH. 


CONCLUSION. 

A  PARTY  of  three  gentlemen  were  seated  one  afternoon, 
not  many  months  ago,  in  the  well-known  and  much  frequented 
dining-room  of  Rilley  in  Pine  street,  where,  surrounded  by 
everything  which  a  luxurious  and  refined  taste  could  com 
mand,  they  were  enjoying  their  dinner — no,  not  enjoying  it 
as  yet.  They  had  given  their  orders,  and  while  awaiting 
their  fulfillment,  were  engaged  in  friendly  and  apparently 
interesting  conversation. 

The  table  was  covered  with  silver  ware  and  cut  glass, 
and  it  was  evident  from  the  manner  of  the  trio,  that  they 
had  come  for  enjoyment,  for  there  was  not  that  appearance 
of  hurrying  about  either  of  them,  so  fatal  to  the  true  appre 
ciation  of  a  meal,  and  so  common  to  those  who  do  business 
in  the  lower  part  of  the  city,  and  who  when  they  do  permit 
themselves  to  indulge  in  a  meal  at  all  during  business  hours, 
dispatch  it  with  a  haste  which  would  seem  to  indicate  that 
the  tune  for  eating  was  actually  begrudged. 

It  was  past  the  regular  business  hours,  and  here  in  that 
mirrored  and  gorgeous  saloon,  the  party  had  met  after  the 


CONCLUSION.  391 

cares  and  troubles  of  the  day  to  enjoy  their  well  earned 
dinner. 

Robert  Arnold  was  one  of  the  trio — an  invited  guest,  and 
the  subject  of  conversation  at  the  time,  was  the  successful 
trip  which  one  of  them  had  just  taken  to  Boston,  in  search 
of  a  debtor  whom  he  had  caught  on  board  the  steamer 
there,  as  she  was  about  leaving  for  Europe.  He  was  narrat 
ing  with  great  glee  his  adventures  in  search  of  the  runaway, 
and  the  schemes  he  had  adopted  to  detect  him,  when  sud 
denly  turning  to  Arnold,  he  said, 

"  By  the.  way  Arnold,  I  saw  an  old  friend  of  yours  on 
board  the  steamer,  who  said  he  was  going  to  take  a  short 
tour — Ah,  here  is  the  dinner,"  he  interrupted,  as  the  waiter 
appeared  laden  down  with  the  massive  silver  ware,  which 
shone  like  the  mirrored  walls. 

"You  saw  a  friend  of  mine,  Barton,  on  board  the 
steamer  ?"  queried  Arnold,  as  the  waiter  busied  himself  in 
arranging  the  dishes. 

"  Yes,  your  old  friend  Gripe." 

"  Good  Heaven  !  Barton,"  exclaimed  the  third  of  the  trio, 
Mr.  Emmons,  a  young  dry  goods  jobber,  who,  as  report 
said,  was  doing  a  flourishing  business  ;  and  as  he  spoke  he 
actually  trembled. 

"  Why,  what  on  earth  is  the  matter,  Emmons  ?"  said  Mr. 
Barton,  surprised  at  the  agitation  of  his  friend  at  such  a 
very  simple  announcement. 

"  Are  you  sure  he  went  in  the  steamer  ?" 

"  Very  sure — for  I  saw  him  on  the  paddle  box  after  she 


392    THREE   PEE  CENT.   A.  MONTH. 

left  the  wharf,  and  he  waved  his  hat  very  gracefully  to 
me." 

"  Then  there  is  a  dead  loss  of  twelve  thousand  dollars  to 
me." 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Arnold,  whose  past 
experience  led  him  at  once  to  conjecture  how  that  loss  had 
been  incurred.  "  Has  he  done  you  out  of  so  much  ?" 

"  Every  dollar,"  replied,  or  rather  groaned,  Mr.  Emmons, 
rising  from  the  table  with  a  most  saddened  expression  of 
countenance  ;  and  taking  his  hat,  he  prepared  to  go,  leaving 
his  meal  untasted.  His  friends  arose  at  the  same  moment, 
but  forbore  to  arrest  him,  as  they  could  well  imagine  that 
after  such  news,  he  could  have  very  little  appetite,  and 
briefly  explaining  how  Mr.  Gripe  had  managed  to  "do 
him  "  to  so  large  an  extent,  he  took  his  leave,  and  the  meal, 
the  enjoyment  of  which  was  anticipated  with  so  much  plea 
sure,  was  finished  by  Arnold  and  his  friend  in  comparative 
silence. 

The  explanation  was  simply  that  Mr.  Emmons  had 
intrusted  Gripe  with  nearly  twelve  thousand  dollars  of 
"bills  receivable"  on  which  to  raise  a  few  thousands  for 
temporary  use.  The  honest  brother  had  advanced  Mr. 
Emmons  a  thousand  dollars  out  of  his  own  funds,  as  he 
said,  promising  to  secure  the  remainder  in  a  couple  of  days, 
and  during  those  days,  he  had  managed  to  dispose  of  the 
entire  line  of  notes,  and  with  the  proceeds  had  started  to 
take  the  tour  of  Europe.  As  he  has  not  been  heard  from 
eince,  Mr.  Emmons  is  exceedingly  fearful  that  he  may  have 


CONCLUSION.  393 

met  an  untimely  end,  and  his  return  is  awaited  by  that 
gentleman  with  the  most  anxious  solicitude. 

Very  little  need  be  written  further  in  bringing  this  narra 
tive  to  a  close.  Kobert  Arnold,  the  quondam  fast  young 
man,  lives  now  among  us,  a  thriving,  prosperous,  and  honored 
merchant.  The  experience  he  acquired,  was  very  dearly 
paid  for  it  is  true,  but  it  has  served  him  faithfully,  and 
the  lessons  inculcated  have  not  been  forgotten. 

The  advice  and  countenance  of  his  tried  friend,  Mr. 
Hardman,  the  generous  sympathy  and  counsel  of  his  dear 
good  Uncle  George,  have  enabled  him  to  look  back  upon 
the  past,  with  sighs  indeed  of  bitter  regret,  and  to  the  future 
with  chastened  expectations,  and  desires  more  subdued.  He 
had  indeed  passed  a  terrible  ordeal,  and  owed  his  escape  to  the 
attachment  of  those  with  whose  worth  he  was  before  unac 
quainted,  and  his  heart  overflows  with  deep  and  abiding 
gratitude  as  he  thinks  upon  the  unmerited  kindness  which 
had  been  extended  to  him. 

He  resides  now  in  a  neat,  unpretending,  but  comfortable 
house,  for  which  he  pays  an  annual  rent  of  several  hundred 
dollars,  and  is  quite  content  to  be  surrounded  with  comforts, 
though  abundantly  able  to  indulge  in  luxuries,  for  he  has 
learned  that  the  mere  possession  of  wealth,  or  the  indulgence 
in  luxuries,  does  not  bring  happiness.  He  has  abandoned 
his  desires  to  secure  any  position,  save  that  which  it  is  in  the 
power  of  every  man  to  acquire,  by  honesty,  industry,  and 
frugality.  He  has  won  the  honor,  regard,  and  esteem  of  all 
with  whom  he  is  brought  in  contact,  and  a  consciousness 


394    THKEE  PER  CENT.  A  MONTH. 

that  his  conduct  merits  all  that  he  receives  of  commendation, 
makes  that  doubly  pleasant. 

Belle  Arnold  is  one  of  the  happiest  wives  in  New  York. 
She  was  tried  in  the  furnace  and  came  ont  like  gold,  the 
better  and  purer  and  truer  for  the  trial.  Blessed  with  the 
love  of  her  husband,  who  indeed  almost  idolizes  her — sur 
rounded  with  every  comfort,  and  cheered  by  the  kind  friend 
ship  and  affection  of  those  most  dear  to  her,  what  more 
could  her  heart  desire  ? 

Susan  Scott,  Mrs.  Benson,  Mrs.  Hardman,  and  Mrs.  Jor 
dan,  are  her  intimates,  and  no  week  passes  in  which  they 
do  not  meet.  Her  children  are  growing  up  and  give  pro 
mise  of  future  usefulness.  They  are  favorite  scholars  at  one 
of  our  best  public  schools,  and  bid  fair  to  become  ornaments 
to  society.  Dear  old  Uncle  George  is  living,  honored  and 
loved  of  all  who  know  his  worth.  His  time  is  equally 
divided  between  Mrs.  Benson,  Susan  Scott,  and  Belle 
Arnold,  by  all  of  whom  he  is  devotedly  loved,  and  heartily 
welcomed.  He  has  almost  succeeded  in  spoiling  Mrs.  Ben 
son's  children,  but  there  is  hope  for  them  yet,  for  as  they 
have  grown  older,  they  have  grown  more  appreciative  of 
parental  love  and  example,  though  they  have  lost  none  of 
then*  love  for  dear  Uncle  George. 

He  is  enjoying  now,  in  a  green  old  age,  the  comfort  and 
happiness  due  to  a  well  spent  life,  and  is  awaiting  patiently, 
but  with  entire  resignation,  the  summons  which  shall  take 
him  to  his  final  reward. 

The  firm  of  Benson  and  Scott,  stand  among  the  first  in 


CONCLUSION.  895 

their  vocation,  in  the  city.  They  have  acquired  a  reputation 
for  skill,  integrity,  and  promptness,  which  has  encircled 
them  with  friends,  and  their  future  seems  as  bright  as  their 
fondest  hopes  could  lead  them  to  anticipate. 

Of  Susan  Scott,  more  perhaps  ought  to  be  said,  but  it 
could  only  be  said  or  written  now  in  violation  of  a  pledge  of 
secrecy.  Uncle  George  has  often  been  importuned  to  make  her 
more  acquainted  with  the  nature  of  his  former  intercourse  with 
her  mother,  and  his  reason,  for  extending  to  her  so  many 
acts  of  kindness  and  generosity.  But  he  has  told  her  that 
in  good  time  she  shall  know  all.  It  will  be  time  enough 
for  her  to  know  it  when  he  chooses  to  tell  her,  and  as  she 
has  been  compelled  to  rest  content  with  this  equivocal  pro 
mise,  the  reader,  who  has  no*  so  much  cause  for  wishing  to 
know  hia  secret,  can  do  „  less  also  than  await  Uncle 
George's  time,  when  he  will  doubtless  impart  the  desired 
information. 


s 


£=. 
CO. 

5 


JUIf 


L  006  213  931  6 
E.        "SS" 

i  i 


